


Lights Will Guide You Home

by darlingargents



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Padme Lives, Plot-heavy, Suitless Vader, and me throwing together the original saga and both tv shows, basically just a fix-it, not relationship heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan knew that if he didn’t leave now, Padmé would die.<br/>And so he made his decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knightfall

“Don’t try it,” Obi-Wan said. The heat from the lava was all around him. Sweat was running down his body, and his mind was only half-working, but he knew. He knew what he would have to do. And he knew in his bones, whether it was the Force or just knowledge, that it would destroy him to do it.

Anakin — _no_ , Darth Vader, _Anakin is dead and gone and will never come back_ — stared him down, eyes shining yellow. “You underestimate my power.”

A ripple flowed through the Force, and both of them reacted to it, turning their heads at the same time. _Padmé_. Obi-Wan had a minor precognition talent. Most Jedi did, though his was slightly stronger than most. And now he knew that if he didn’t leave now, Padmé would die.

He made his decision.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He pushed with the Force.

Anakin — _Darth Vader, Darth Vader_ — let out a scream of fury as the piece of metal he stood on flew backwards several meters and he almost lost his footing. The flow of the lava began to pull it away from the shore, and downstream.  
Obi-Wan ran.

* * *

At the landing platform, he picked up Padmé, near-paralyzed with terror. It wouldn’t take Anakin too long to get back onto land, and once he did... well. It would be best if they were gone by then.

Padmé began to wake up as he carried her onto the ship, one arm under her knees and the other under her back. She blinked up at him, eyes unfocused, and then fully woke up a moment later. “Obi-Wan?” she said, voice raspy. She tried to sit up.

“Careful,” said Obi-Wan as he laid her down on the floor of the ship. He thought there might be beds somewhere, but he didn’t know where and time wasn’t on his side. He spotted R2-D2 near the cockpit. “Artoo, get us out of here. Now,” he said. Artoo chirped a positive response and rolled away. Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Padmé. “Can you stand?”

She sat up, one hand on her back. “I… I don’t know. Give me a second.” She closed her eyes, and Obi-Wan saw the bruise-like shadows under them. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping recently — or, at least not sleeping well. The war, he guessed; it had been in its most desperate throes, and even the Senate had to notice as sheltered as they were.

 _The war was over_. He hadn’t even had time to process it. The Force only knew if this was a good thing. Palpatine’s new empire hardly seemed like it would be restoring the peace destroyed by the war.

Padmé reached one hand up to brush her throat, coughing softly. “How badly did he hurt you?” asked Obi-Wan, already dreading the response. The way Anakin’s fist had closed around her throat with the Force was a horrifying image, one that would be burned into his mind forever. Anakin had loved Padmé more than anything, enough to betray his vows.

And he’d almost killed her.

“It feels a little bruised, but the inside of my throat isn’t sore. I think I’ll have some bruises, but no real damage.” Obi-Wan touched the side of her throat, and though he was no healer or medical droid, he thought she was right. Anakin had been very lucky not to kill her. He’d hardly caused any real damage, which was a practically a miracle. The ship began to lift, and he lost the slightest bit of tension. For the moment, they were safe.

Padmé seemed to have realized this too, because the calm mask suddenly dropped off her face, and she pressed her face into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His robes were burnt there, and probably smelled like smoke, but she didn’t seem to care. She let out a sob and Obi-Wan wrapped one arm around her.

For a few minutes they sat there, Obi-Wan holding Padmé as she cried. When she finally pulled away, eyes red and face tear-streaked, she felt a little calmer in the Force.

“Are you okay?” asked Obi-Wan, leaving her to interpret the question however she liked.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “Help me up?”

Obi-Wan complied, and they made their way to the cockpit, his arm supporting her.

Artoo was plugged into the ship, and at Obi-Wan’s request, gave over the controls to him. He had an idea where to go.

* * *

Obi-Wan met Yoda and Bail Organa at a base on Polis Massa, an asteroid located in the Outer Rim.

Padmé had begun contractions during the flight, despite not being due for another two months. Obi-Wan guessed that it had to do with the trauma of Anakin — _Darth Vader_ — choking her, but he wasn’t a medical expert. Once they had arrived, she was transferred to a medical room.

“We must operate quickly if we are to save the babies,” said the medical droid. Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying much attention to it — he’d been watching Padmé through the glass, as she sobbed and cried out Anakin’s name — but he immediately focused on the droid.

“Babies?”

“She’s having twins,” said the droid. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to feel. He just looked back at Padmé.

“Tell her, did you?” asked Yoda.

“About Anakin? No, not yet,” said Obi-Wan. He had to fight to keep his voice steady, which Yoda likely noticed. “I let her make her own assumptions. After — after the babies are born, I’ll tell her.”

“Survive this, she may not,” said Yoda quietly. “Visions, your former padawan had. Her death, they predicted.”

“I won’t let that happen,” said Obi-Wan. And he wouldn’t. He owed that to Anakin — his apprentice, the man who was now dead.

Yoda looked up at him, eyes far too old, even for him. “Try, you will. Succeed, you may not.”

Obi-Wan looked away and back at Padmé. She wasn’t crying anymore, but pain radiated off of her in the Force. “She will live,” he said, because she had to. If she didn’t, he had nothing left. After Qui-Gon, and Ahsoka, and Anakin. After all the friends he’d lost during the war. He only had Padmé.

He wasn’t going to lose her too.

* * *

 

The birth was over in less than an hour.

After, Padmé was set up in a bed. She held a baby in each arm. Luke and Leia, she’d named them.

“What about middle names?” asked Obi-Wan, sitting at the end of her bed. She’d asked him to stay with her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone.

“I’ll think about it a little more,” she said, looking down at Luke and Leia. Her face was red, damp with sweat, and her hair was falling out of its braid, but she looked almost happy. Content at the very least. And she felt the same in the Force. Obi-Wan envied her. He’d put on a smile, but he could still see Anakin in his mind’s eye. The glow of his yellow eyes, the madness and rage that surrounded him in the Force like a dark cloud. The lava around him, hellfire red, only made the image worse.

Padmé touched his hand. “Obi-Wan?”

He blinked, and forced himself to smile more. “Congratulations, Padmé. You’re a mother now.”

She smiled, and looked fondly down on her children. After a moment, her smile faded. “I didn’t want to do this alone,” she said quietly. “You know, Anakin was going to leave the Order.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and looked down, fighting back the flood of emotions. He had known, logically, that Anakin had cared for Padmé. But he was a Jedi. Jedi weren’t ordinary beings. They saw the world differently, and most wouldn’t leave the Order for anything. There were exceptions, of course — Count Dooku, Ahsoka — but there were usually only a handful of Jedi who left the Order every millennium. He’d known that Anakin’s life as a civilian before becoming a Jedi made him see things differently — known, but never really understood — but leaving the Order? He’d considered it before, and for Anakin, he would have… but it still shocked him.

“When? Why?”

“After the war. He had a feeling that it would end soon.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” said Obi-Wan quietly. Padmé smiled ruefully.

“And… well, because we’re — we were married.”

Married.

The word bounced around in Obi-Wan’s mind, over and over, but he still didn’t understand.

_Married?_

“I’m sorry?”

“We were married.” Padmé looked uncomfortable now. “We got married after the beginning of the war, on Naboo.”

“But — but why?” Obi-Wan couldn’t make sense of it. He’d known they were sleeping together very early on. He’d been surprised that his awkward padawan had gotten into her good graces so quickly, but he hadn’t given it much thought. Jedi were allowed to have casual relationships, as long as they didn’t get attached. He’d figured out, a little later on, that they were in a real relationship. He’d decided that he wasn’t going to tell anyone. The war was still going on, and Anakin was one of the best generals they had. He’d planned to talk to him about it once the war was over.

But… married?

He couldn’t — he wouldn’t ever understand that. He’d grown up as a Jedi, and the Order was his only family. Of course, not all beings had that, but he couldn’t understand needing more — for himself, or any Jedi. The Order had cared for him, raised him, protected him. It had given him purpose in a galaxy that didn’t grant that to every being.

The necessity some beings felt for marriage was not something he’d ever understand.

“We loved each other.” Padmé looked down at Luke and Leia. They were both sleeping; she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Leia’s forehead. “At least, that’s what I thought.”

“He loves you,” said Obi-Wan quietly. “He turned to the dark side for you.”

“That’s not love.”

“Yes, it is.”

Padmé looked back up at him, eyes narrowed. “No, it isn’t. Love is selfless. Any being who would kill for love doesn’t know what love is.”

“It’s not like that. The dark side—”

“The dark side!” She laughed, but there was nothing warm or humorous about it. Luke woke in her arms, and began to cry. She paused, shifting her arms to hold Luke closer to her. Without being asked, Obi-Wan picked up Leia and held her in his arms.  
Padmé looked back at him a moment later, when Luke quieted. “The dark side? I don’t even know what that _is_. Isn’t it just what the Sith use?”

“No,” said Obi-Wan as gently as he could. “The dark side is another part of the Force. Every Force user is at risk of falling into it. It’s triggered by strong emotions — fear, anger. It’s why the Jedi can’t have attachments. When we get attached, we’re at risk of falling into the dark side."

Padmé was staring at him, lips pressed tightly together. Luke was crying again, tugging at the collar of the medical gown she was wearing, but she wasn’t paying attention. “So it’s my fault.”

“No—no,” said Obi-Wan immediately. “Padmé, you couldn’t have known.” In the last few hours, he’d blamed _everyone_. Himself. Palpatine. Yoda. The entire Jedi Council. Dooku. And Padmé — but only for a moment. He knew, logically, that she was as blameless as anyone else, but he’d been in denial of the truth. It was his fault — his, and Palpatine’s. He had accepted that now.

She finally looked down at Luke, and ran her hand over his head. He quieted slightly. “So it’s Anakin’s fault. He loved me, and turned to the dark side because of that.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what else to say. She’d laid it out more succinctly than he had. “Yes,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”

She closed her eyes, dropping her head to her chest. “I thought — I thought nothing could be worse than knowing that the man I loved almost killed me. But it’s worse, because it’s partially my fault.”

“Padmé…”

“He hurt so many people. He became a Sith,” she said. “And it’s my fault. He killed _younglings_. Because of me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Obi-Wan again.

Obi-Wan suddenly realized, with a feeling of sickly dread, that she’d been talking about Anakin in the past tense for their entire conversation. Oh, _Force_. “Padmé, he’s not dead.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“He’s — he survived.”

What little colour remained in her face drained away. “How? How could you leave alive?”

Obi-Wan looked down at Leia. She was asleep, ignorant of the galaxy in upheaval around her. “I realized that if I kept fighting him, and didn’t get you onto the ship, you would die. So I delayed him, and left.”

“He’s alive,” she repeated. She looked down at Luke, and then at Leia. “He’s going to come after me,” she said, voice quiet. Resigned.

“That’s… very likely.”

“He’s going to come after my children.” Her voice had grown steely, her eyes still on the younglings. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“What are you going to do?”

She looked at Obi-Wan. There was fire in her eyes now. “I’m going to hide, and I’m going to protect my children.”

* * *

 

A day later, Obi-Wan, Yoda, Bail Organa, and Padmé sat around a table, onboard the _Sundered Heart_. They had just entered hyperspace; no destination set yet, but heading indirectly towards the Outer Rim. The farther from Coruscant, the better.

Padmé, dressed in casual spacer’s clothes that were far too big for her slight frame, held Leia in her arms. Obi-Wan, next to her, held Luke. They’d spent the last standard day taking care of the twins. Obi-Wan had never spent much time around younglings, but the last twenty-four standard hours had given him more than enough experience. He counted himself lucky that both Luke and Leia were Force-sensitive — that, he knew how to deal with. He’d actually noticed it earlier, during Padmé’s pregnancy, but he hadn’t told her. It was never easy for a new parent to discover that they had to give up their child to the Jedi after the first few years. He’d wanted her to have her few months of happiness before she knew that there was a limit on the time she would have with her children.

Of course, now there was no more Jedi Order to give her children to.

“Hide the children, and the Senator, we must,” said Yoda. Bail nodded in agreement.

“I’m not a Senator anymore,” said Padmé. “An — Darth Vader likely thinks I’m dead. I can’t be in public anymore. Even if I felt safe revealing that I’m still alive, there’s still the twins. I can’t let the Emperor know they survived.” Obi-Wan felt a little sick at her automatic correction of Vader’s name. He hadn’t even drilled it into himself yet — the fact that Padmé was already doing felt like a blaster bolt to the heart.

“Good point,” said Bail. “You should go into hiding.”

“I can go with her,” said Obi-Wan. “I have to hide anyway, since there’s a kill order on the Jedi. I can find an Outer Rim planet, off the beaten track, and hide Padmé and the children.”

“Make contact with Master Luminara, you must,” said Yoda.

“Luminara? She’s alive?” Obi-Wan hadn’t expected this.

“Lucky, she was. Away from her troopers, she was — under light guard. Managed to escape, she has.”

 _She killed her own men_ , thought Obi-Wan. He instantly wanted to forget the thought. He hadn’t thought very hard about what had happened, and he didn’t want to. To think that his troopers, his _men_ , could try to _kill_ him—

Yoda frowned at him, disapproval radiating through the Force. Padmé looked between the two of them, brows raised. Leia tugged at Padmé’s loose hair, and she focused her attention on the baby. Obi-Wan tried to pull himself together.

“Do we know what happened to the clones? I don’t think they would just turn on us, Master Yoda.”

Yoda fixed his steely gaze on Obi-Wan, his frown deepening. “Overestimate the clones, you may, Master Obi-Wan.”

“With all due respect, Master, I don’t think they would just turn. We’ve been through hell together. Something must have happened to them.”

“Know this, you do?”

“I feel it in the Force, Master.”

“You do not.” Yoda’s gaze had hardened. “Want to believe it, you do. Know it, you do not.”

“I’m sorry, Masters, but I feel that we’re getting off-topic here,” said Bail. “The question is: how are we going to hide Senator Amidala and her children?”

“What planet is Luminara on?” asked Obi-Wan.

“Umbara,” replied Yoda.

“Why?” Obi-Wan had a lot of bad memories there. It wasn’t somewhere he wanted to go ever again, but he didn’t seem to have a choice.

“Not important, it is.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Normally he was more respectful of the Grandmaster, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable today. “Alright. How long will it take to get there from here?”

“Two days it will take, if adjust the coordinates we do now.”

Padmé nodded at Artoo, who was standing by the door. He chirped a response and rolled away. She looked back at the others at the table.

“Will we be safe? From Vader?”

“Perhaps,” said Yoda. “Move frequently, you will need to. Purchase a ship, you must.”

“We don’t have any credits,” Padmé pointed out. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer her, but then glanced down as Luke grabbed the front of his shirt. Blue eyes were blinking up at him, more intelligently than any infant should have.

“Credits, the Jedi Order has still,” said Yoda, picking up on what Obi-Wan had intended to say. “Connect to our accounts, you can. Know how, Master Obi-Wan does.” Obi-Wan nodded in confirmation. Padmé relaxed marginally.

“Is that all?” said Bail. “If so, we can drop Master Kenobi and Senator Amidala off on Umbara, and I can make my way back to Coruscant. I’ll invent a story about your death, Padmé.” He looked a little ashamed of the last part of his sentence. Padmé picked up on it.

“Don’t worry, Bail. If the public needs to think I’m dead for my children’s safety, so be it.” She lifted her chin a little, and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of the senator that had served through the war without wavering or breaking. She was strong — stronger than him, he thought sometimes. Under these new circumstances, stronger than Anakin.

_Darth Vader._

“Settled, it is, then,” said Yoda.

“Where will you go, Master?” asked Obi-Wan.

“Dagobah.”

Obi-Wan had never been there, but as far as he knew, it had no sentients that made it their permanent home. It was all swamps and wetlands and — and the Force. Of course. It would be a good place for a Jedi to hide. But not for a senator.

Obi-Wan knew he was risking his safety, as well as theirs, that even his presence might put Padmé and the twins at risk. But it was better than leaving them unprotected. As strong a woman as Padmé was, as smart and cunning and ruthless, she wouldn’t survive on her own in the galaxy with two babies. Alone, maybe. Probably. She’d proved resourceful enough for that many times during the war. With the twins? That would be much, much harder — maybe even impossible.

Obi-Wan had no choice.

“How will you get there?” asked Bail, pulling Obi-Wan out of his thoughts.

“Take an escape pod, I will. Go now, I should. Faster, it will be.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and closed it again. He wanted to protest — but really, how could he? It was purely logical. There was no real reason for Yoda to accompany them to Umbara. But part of him wanted that anyway. He wasn’t a youngling anymore, nor a padawan, nor even a Knight — but he had just lost the Order. His family. And he wished that Yoda could stay with him for just a little longer.

As if hearing his thoughts, Yoda nodded at him, kindness in his eyes, but still firm. Obi-Wan stood at the same time as the Grandmaster did.

“Thank you, Master,” he said. “I’ll come back to you.”

“Thank you, young Obi-Wan,” said Yoda. Obi-Wan nodded, and watched as Yoda left. There was nothing more to say.

* * *

 

Umbara was just as unpleasant as Obi-Wan remembered. The darkness was just as nerve-wracking, the local language still grating on his ears. He hoped they didn’t stay here long.

They were in a bar now, mostly filled with Umbarans, along with a few other species. They didn’t blend in, but they didn’t stick out, either. Obi-Wan wore spacer’s clothes that made him look like a smuggler. Padmé’s clothes were slightly different, closer to what a bounty hunter would wear — though with considerably fewer weapons. She was sipping her drink — a weak, tasteless alcohol — and had Luke and Leia strapped to her chest with a baby harness. Obi-Wan might have been worried that she was drinking again already, but he had bigger concerns at the moment. Padmé’s use of alcohol, while sometimes verging on alcoholism, was very low on his priority list.

The bar was dark, and Obi-Wan wasn’t happy about being unable to see, though he didn’t need sight to find Luminara. The Force would do just fine. They’d sent her a coded message as soon as they’d come out of hyperspace, and received a response for which Obi-Wan had been profoundly grateful. He wasn’t especially close to Luminara anymore, but they’d know each other as younglings, and it would be nice to see a Jedi — any Jedi. He’d felt so many of them die in the last few days and the Force felt murky and wrong. This many Jedi dying at once had caused shockwaves that Obi-Wan doubted would fade for years, or even decades.

Something alerted him in the Force and he turned. Padmé put down her drink and looked over his shoulder to see Luminara crossing the bar.

She was dressed neutrally, in dark blue civilian clothes. Her head was bare. For maybe the first time Obi-Wan could remember since they were padawans her dark hair hung loose and came down to her shoulders. Her clothes didn’t have any similarity to the Mirialan dresses she usually wore, nor were they Jedi robes. Obi-Wan had seen many Jedi in civvies before, but it was always surprising. Even though the Order didn’t have a specific uniform that all Jedi wore, they all dressed in the same style — neutral colours, similar shapes. Seeing Luminara — especially Luminara, who’d never gone undercover in his memory — wearing civilian clothes was just another reminder that the galaxy had turned upside down.

She sat down in the third chair at the table, and nodded politely to Padmé. “Senator.” She turned to Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi. I can’t say I’m surprised that you survived, though I’m surprised that you seem to be one of the only ones.”

“As far as I know, only three Masters survived,” said Obi-Wan carefully. He didn’t know how much Yoda had told Luminara so far. “Yoda. You. And me.”

She inhaled sharply, and closed her eyes. Her skin was a little pale — he’d thought it was just the light, but no, her tattoos were definitely standing out, dark shadows against her green skin. She was feeling the aftershocks in the Force as well.

“No one else?” she said quietly. Padmé looked away. As much as she might have sympathized, Obi-Wan knew that she could never really understand. This wasn’t her people.

“Not that we know of. I left a message broadcasting, warning any survivors to stay away. But no one who was onworld survived. It’s likely that no one who was with a battalion of troopers survived. Anyone who was undercover had a chance, but the Force knows if they’ll get the message before they run into any clones.”

Luminara looked down. A grief as strong as the Force itself was radiating off her; Obi-Wan knew that he probably felt the same way. A thought came through as well: _We’re the last. The last of the Jedi. Twenty-five thousand years of protecting the galaxy, and when our children were slaughtered and our temple burned, no one saved us. We’re the last. We’re all that’s left._

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much of the thought was Luminara’s and how much was his, but it seemed like it hardly made a difference. Any surviving Jedi likely felt the same.

_If there are any more._

Obi-Wan picked up his glass and drained it, the brandy burning down his throat.

Luminara frowned at him, and he shrugged. He’d never claimed to be perfect.

“So what do we do now?” asked Luminara.

Obi-Wan nodded towards Padmé, who raised a brow in return. “Protect the Senator. Find any survivors. Live.”

Luminara looked at Padmé, and back at Obi-Wan. “May I speak to you for a moment, Obi-Wan?”

They stood, and walked a few feet away. Padmé glanced at them, and then brought her attention back to the twins.

“Why are we protecting the Senator, Obi-Wan? None of your messages mentioned her. Why is she safer with two Jedi — both of us with a death price on our heads — than in the Senate?” asked Luminara. “You didn’t say in your message. You aren’t saying now.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell Luminara, but he realized that he didn’t have much of a choice but to tell her most of it. “Her younglings,” he finally said.

Luminara glanced back at Padmé. “The twins? What about them?”

“They’re Force-sensitive.”

Clarity dawned on Luminara’s face. “Of course. I knew I could feel something — it wasn’t just you. They’re Skywalker’s?”

Obi-Wan nodded, and smirked. “As the entire Order was aware, they were sleeping together.”

Luminara half-smiled. “Quinlan owes me ten credits. He thought you were sleeping with him. I figured you wouldn’t sleep with your padawan — not for a few years, at least.”

“Thanks,” said Obi-Wan drily.

Luminara’s smile fell off her face. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Obi-Wan ignored her query. “They weren’t just sleeping together, though. They were — they were _married_.”

Her eyes widened. “Married?”

“I know.”

“Jedi don’t get married.”

“Anakin did. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She studied his face, coming closer to him until she was only centimetres away. “What happened to Anakin?” she asked, barely whispering. Obi-Wan could feel her breath on his face. It was a bad time, but he suddenly remembered the last time they’d slept together — after Barriss, and Ahsoka. She’d come to him, her mind bleeding rage and grief and regret, and they’d shared a bottle of Corellian brandy. He’d woken up with her in bed with him. It wasn’t the only time, but the most recent — and the most emotional.

He swallowed. “Anakin is dead.”

She moved away from him slightly, eyes narrowed. “He isn’t.” She didn’t have to say that she’d felt the lie in the Force.

“He is. He was murdered by Palpatine. By Darth Sidious.” If Obi-Wan said it enough times, it would become true.

“I don’t believe you, Obi-Wan.”

“You have to.”

She looked at him, and didn’t speak, but gently pressed against his mind in the Force. After a moment, Obi-Wan let her in. He didn’t want to say it, but Luminara needed to know. She probed gently, and fell into his memories. He saw them as she did, blowing past like leaves in the wind.

_Fire — lava, heat, red waves of blistering heat_

_Screams_

_Death_

_You killed them!_

_Younglings_

_Anakin killed younglings_

_He killed_

_He—_

_Anakin Skywalker is dead_

_Anakin Skywalker is a Sith_

_No! He’s dead, he’s gone_

_The boy you trained, gone he is_

_I name you… Darth Vader_

She pulled out of his mind with a soft gasp. Her skin was even paler now, the diamonds on her chin dark as charcoal against it. “Force, Obi-Wan,” she said softly. Her blue eyes were wide, and glistened with tears. Jedi didn’t weep for the dead, for they were one with the Force. But to become a Sith, to lose one’s self in the dark side — that was a fate worse than death.

Obi-Wan had cried. He had cried until he had no tears left. He was in mourning now.

“I’m so sorry,” Luminara said, and she wrapped her arms around him. Obi-Wan was so surprised that his arms raised automatically. For a moment, they simply stood there, taking comfort in each other’s warmth. When she pulled away, her eyes were still damp; she wiped her sleeve across them.

“Should we go back now?” she asked. She was clearly trying for levity, but her voice was thick with unshed tears. Obi-Wan nodded.

* * *

 

That night, Obi-Wan and Padmé got a room together at the motel that Luminara was staying at on the other side of the city. Luminara was across the hall.

The chrono by the bed said that it was almost midnight. Obi-Wan sat by the door, holding Leia. Luke was asleep in one of the two cribs on the other side of the room. The room was small, cramped, and only had one bed, but it was still better than sleeping on a ship again. Obi-Wan always preferred sleeping onworld if he could.

Padmé stepped out of the refresher, her hair in two thick braids. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, and Obi-Wan knew he probably looked the same. Being on the run and looking after two infants was no easy task. He already knew he wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep for the next few months.

It was surprising that his life had come to this. Jedi didn’t take care of younglings on their own — the younglings stayed in the crèche and were taken care of by minders on shifts. Obi-Wan doubted that very many Jedi had experienced taking care of a child on their own, or even with just one other person — padawans aside, of course, though that wasn’t exactly the same. When you trained a padawan, they weren’t exactly like your child; close, maybe, but your main goal was not to raise them until adulthood. It was to prepare them for life as a Jedi.

Padmé sat down on the bed, holding Luke. He’d woken up, and it sounded as if he was going to cry. Obi-Wan sighed, and shifted Leia in his arms. She was asleep, mouth slightly open, and feelings of warmth and contentment came through the Force from her. Obi-Wan appreciated it. He felt like he might be needing that.

“Obi-Wan?” Padmé said, voice drained and exhausted. “I’m going to sleep. Can you take Luke?”

He nodded, and crossed the tiny room — with three steps — to put Leia in her crib and take Luke from Padmé’s arms. “I’ll take first watch.”

“We don’t need watches, Obi-Wan.”

“We have no idea who could be looking for us.”

“Everyone.” She was exhausted, mentally and physically; the Force was full of it, even though she was Forceblind. Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about what it meant that he was so attuned to her.“If they find us, they find us. There’s no point in going without sleep.”

Obi-Wan considered this. It was true, but he’d been fighting a war for three years. He wasn’t sure that inaction would suit him. Of course, keeping watch wasn’t exactly active, but it was more so than just giving in and sleeping.

“Come to bed, Obi-Wan,” she said, laying down and pulling the covers over herself. She dimmed the lamp by the bed and rested her head on the pillow.

Obi-Wan realized the situation suddenly. There was only one bed. He’d been assuming they’d take shifts, but if they weren’t—

“Padmé, I can’t.” This was Anakin’s wife.

“I’m not propositioning you, Obi-Wan. You need sleep just as much as I do. Calm Luke down, and come to bed.” She closed her eyes, resting her cheek on her hand and facing towards the two cribs.

After a moment, Obi-Wan started rocking Luke gently. Luke’s face, which had been red and twisted up, relaxed marginally. Obi-Wan sent feelings of warmth and peace through the Force, and after a few moments, Luke was asleep again. He laid Luke in his crib and turned around.

Padmé’s eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled off his boots and outer layers. When he couldn’t delay any longer, he moved around to the other side of the bed and got in. He tucked his lightsaber under his pillow and lay down.  
Padmé was facing away from him, and the bed was large enough that they weren’t touching, which Obi-Wan was grateful for. He faced the wall, his back to Padmé, and tried to relax. With the Force, he turned off the lights, leaving the room in darkness. Padmé let out a sigh — contentment, he thought, though he wasn’t entirely sure.

It only took him a few minutes to drift into sleep.

* * *

 

Padmé didn’t know where she was when she woke.

She sat up quickly. The roughness of the sheets, the unevenness of the mattress, the strange feel of the air. She rubbed her eyes, and looked around. It was still pitch black. She reached for the table by the bed, feeling along the wood until her fingers hit plasteel. She turned on the lamp and looked around the still-dim room.

Two cribs on her right. A refresher door on the wall across from her less than a meter away from the foot of the bed. And on her left, Obi-Wan, still asleep with one arm under his pillow. For a moment she simply stared in shock — and then she remembered.  
She dropped her hands to her stomach. Not pregnant. The cribs — of course. She didn’t know how she’d forgotten. There was a faint sound of a baby crying; that must have been what woke her. Glancing at the chrono on the table — 0422 — she swung her legs out of the bed. She stood, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, and looked into the cribs.

Luke was crying again. She picked him up and sat heavily back down on the bed.

This wasn’t how she’d expected her first days of motherhood to go. She’d expected to have Anakin with her — well, not expected. Hoped, maybe. If not, she still had some handmaidens who could help her, and maybe let her get a full night’s sleep. That didn’t seem likely for a while.

Even in the worst possible situations she’d imagined in bad moments, she’d never imagined a situation like this. Living in a motel on an unfamiliar planet, with only Obi-Wan to help her, sleeping in a room hardly larger than the refresher in her Coruscant apartment. She supposed that she still had Threepio and Artoo, but they weren’t with her now — “Only medically necessary droids”, the sign on the outside of the motel had said. She supposed that she could have made a case that she needed them for the twins, but she’d been too tired to put up a fight. And they wouldn’t have fit into the room anyway.

The bed shifted slightly as Obi-Wan sat up. “Luke?” he said by way of greeting. She nodded. “Let me take him,” he said, standing and walking around to her side of the bed. She handed over Luke gratefully. Obi-Wan sat down beside her, rocking Luke in his arms.

While he looked down at Luke, Padmé studied him. She’d never expected to see him like this — sleep-bleary, hair mussed, clothes rumpled. Of course, she’d thought about it before — he’d been her first big crush as a teenager, coming into her life as her planet was being invaded and helping to save it. It hadn’t hurt that he was incredibly good-looking, too. Of course, he was a Jedi, so nothing had come of it — they’d just been good friends, and had stayed in contact for years after Qui-Gon’s death and the liberation of her people. He’d even been assigned to bodyguard her, once, before she’d stepped down from the throne. That had been interesting. But of course, she’d met Anakin for the second time, and her feelings for Obi-Wan had become a distant memory — just a teenage crush.

Now, though, exhausted and lonely and farther away from the Republic and her own life than she’d even been, everything seemed different.

Obi-Wan looked up. Padmé had a moment of worry — what if he’d heard what she was thinking? — but he just said, “You can go back to sleep. I’ll put Luke back to bed.”

She nodded and lay back down as Obi-Wan put Luke back in his crib. Sighing, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, eyes still open. In a few moments, her mind wandered again.

_Anakin._

Anakin, who was a Sith. Anakin, who was likely looking for her — if he didn’t think she was dead.

She hoped with all of her soul that he did, but she couldn’t know for sure.

She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her temple. She wanted the man she loved — had loved — to think that she was dead. That was what her life had come to.

She rolled over and pressed her face against the pillow, stifling her sobs. When Obi-Wan came back to bed, he didn’t say anything, but extended one hand on top of the covers. An invitation.

After a moment, she took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I've published since I was twelve and that fic was abandoned, so I'm a bit nervous, but I'm quite happy about this! The current chapter count (10, for posterity, I guess) might be changed -- I've written a fair amount and I have a good idea of what's going to happen, but it might end up being a little longer than currently planned. Also, there are a couple more ships that might be added later on, but I'm not completely sure yet.  
> Thanks to Zoe (@ravensclexa on tumblr) for betaing for me, this wouldn't have been the same without your help.  
> You can also find me on tumblr (@bisexualanakins) during evenings or on twitter (@darlingargents) basically all the time.  
>  **ETA:** The title is from the song Fix You by Coldplay.


	2. Returns

**Fifteen Years Later | 4 BBY**

It had been fifteen years since Padmé had worn a Senate gown.

Her old ones still fit, which she hadn’t expected. Preparing for this day, she’d tried on a few different ones, but when she looked into the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. The dresses she’d worn as a Senator were from a completely different world, a world that she’d left behind so long ago. So she’d bought a new gown for this. It was simple with bright colours, and it was distinctly Naboo — though not too similar to any of her old ones.

Bail Organa examined her from across the holotable. “You look good, Padmé.”

She shrugged, tugging at the sleeve of her dress. She was so used to civilian clothes — which were more comfortable than ornate, and rarely had skirts or even loose sleeves — that she was sure she’d be fidgeting constantly. Her hair also felt heavy and strange; she’d never cut it short, but almost every day it was braided or in a bun — anything to keep it out of the way. The ornamentation she wore today weighed her down, and felt like almost too much.

“I didn’t mean — Padmé, you don’t look like you’ve been kidnapped for fifteen years.”

She sighed. She supposed it would be hard to convince the Emperor that she’d been held prisoner by Obi-Wan for fifteen years, but…

“He was a Jedi. Even if he snapped and kidnapped me, he’d still treat me well.” She bit her lip and tugged at her sleeve again. She knew how unconvincing her story was, but she didn’t have a better one and she had to hope that it would fool the emperor.

“I suppose.” Bail still looked dubious, but then the air seemed to shiver around them — they’d come out of hyperspace. He looked at his datapad. “Alright, I’ll message my contact now and say I have you. Are you ready?”

She nodded, trying to hide her nerves. She’d been preparing this for years, but she hadn’t been ready until recently. She still didn’t feel _completely_ ready, but at least now she didn’t feel like she was abandoning her children. After all, they were Jedi now.

* * *

Padmé had seen the Emperor many times before — in person, back when he’d been almost a father figure to her, and many times on holos and news vids since his true colours had been revealed and she’d gone into hiding. But nothing could have prepared her for seeing him now — the outright disgust she felt at the sight of his face terrified her, and she forced it down, thinking of good things — her time in the Senate before the war, her moments with her children. Nothing that would contradict the story she was about to tell. Obi-Wan had told her that Palpatine wasn’t likely to be able to pick up on specific thoughts, but he’d been upfront about the fact that he had no idea of the true extent of his powers; she had to be as careful as possible.

“Senator Amidala,” said Palpatine. He stood, and Padmé forced a smile onto her face as he walked over and wrapped her into a hug. She tried to remember how she’d felt about him before — the way she’d admired him.

But after what he’d done all those years ago, and all the years of hating him since, it was difficult.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, as if she had simply gone on vacation to Alderaan, and not like she’d been missing for over a decade. She forced a weak smile onto her face again, and sat down across from him on one of the chairs in his office. He pushed back his hood — she had to wonder why he was wearing it alone in his office — and smiled at her, though it did nothing to improve his appearance.

“I was kidnapped,” she said outright.

Palpatine’s eyes widened in a thin veneer of concern. “Kidnapped? Senator Organa failed to mention that.”

“I wished to explain it for myself.” She looked down, hoping she was being convincing. “After the Jedi betrayed the Republic, Obi-Wan Kenobi came to my apartment. Mad with grief and anger, he—” She faked a sob. “He kidnapped me. For fifteen years, he kept me prisoner on his ship, me and my children—”

“Children?” interrupted Palpatine, his interest clearly piqued. A cynical part of her noted that he wasn’t being terribly convincing — she’d just told him that she’d been kept prisoner, for kriff’s sake.

“Yes. Twins — Luke and Leia. He kept them apart from me after they no longer needed my immediate care. I haven’t seen them in so long.” She forced another sob, more real this time as she channeled the very real fear that she’d never see them again. Of course, she’d only seen them a few days ago, but Palpatine didn’t need to know that.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. How did you escape?”

“He hadn’t been to my cell for a few days, and I managed to get out and take an escape pod. I looked for Luke and Leia, but there wasn’t — there wasn’t time.” She was fully crying now, focusing on her fear to keep her tears as convincing as possible.

Palpatine crossed the room and sat beside her, putting an arm around her. She had to wonder why he was acting so kind; it seemed unlikely he did it regularly. She arrived at a conclusion quickly; he wanted access to her children, and perhaps another way to control Darth Vader. Lord Vader’s violent temper and occasional, extreme losses of control were feared across the Empire, and if Palpatine thought that she could rein him in, even a little bit—

She shuddered at the thought, despite her best efforts. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, or he just assumed it to be a part of her crying.

She hadn’t thought of Darth Vader as Anakin for years. She’d told Luke and Leia about him when they were old enough, but Obi-Wan had helped her, and she’d cried after. They’d been twelve — too young, she thought, but they saw Lord Vader in the news all the time, this man that made their parents turn away or go quiet every time they saw him. He was a war hero, it was said — an agent of the Emperor, here to protect the citizens. A man who turned away from the evil Jedi and helped to defeat them. A hero, a symbol of hope.

Luke and Leia had known that he was no hero, but nothing more than that. They hadn’t reacted as badly as she’d feared — Leia, true to her twelve-year-old self, had made a plan to sneak into the Imperial Palace and kill him, and Luke, wide-eyed and always so emotionally aware, had just wrapped his arms around Padmé and told her that it didn’t matter, that Obi-Wan would always be his father.

When Padmé stopped crying, she pulled away from the Emperor and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Once she was done, she looked at Palpatine.

“I’d like to return to being a Senator, but I assume my seat is taken?”

“It is — Jamillia took your seat after you disappeared — but I’m sure you could be of some assistance to her. But not yet. First, you must recover. Have you been checked out by a medical droid?”

“Bail had his droid give me a checkup, but I’m fine. Physically, at least.” She sniffed again, feeling for a moment that maybe she was being too dramatic, but Palpatine didn’t seem bothered.

“Good, good. Senator Jamillia is on Naboo at the moment, so you can take her apartment — your old one, actually. Can my droid accompany you there?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She stood and hugged Palpatine again. He was stiff under her hands — it was likely, she thought, that he hadn’t had to play the kindly grandfather role for a long time — but he returned the hug, and looked as pleasant as was possible with his disfigured face when she moved away.

“Welcome back, Senator Amidala,” he said. His eyes glowed yellow for a moment, and she fought back a shudder of disgust. She could still remember Darth Vader’s eyes, staring at her under lowered brows, surrounded by hellfire.

Darth Vader didn’t haunt her anymore, but for years, all of her nightmares had been about him.

* * *

**Fifteen Years Earlier | 19 BBY**

The next morning — if one could consider there to be a morning on a planet in permanent darkness — Luminara met Obi-Wan, Padmé, and the twins in a small diner. They ordered breakfast, and spoke quietly as they waited for it to arrive.

“We’ll have to go by different names,” said Obi-Wan. “I usually go by Ben when I’m undercover; Kenobi isn’t an uncommon surname, so I think I can keep that.”

“I’ll think of something for myself,” said Luminara. She looked even more exhausted than she had the night before; she’d told Obi-Wan that she’d spent most of the night mediating. She hadn’t gone too deep, however. She’d made that mistake earlier and felt the echoes of the dying Jedi around her.

Obi-Wan knew what she meant. He hadn’t mediated since Order 66, but he remembered that after Qui-Gon had died, the Force had been full of darkness and pain. During the war, deaths of Jedi had piled up, and so it hadn’t affected the Force overall quite as much — but all of the jedi dying at once would most definitely have an effect.

“I can go by my family name,” said Padmé. “I haven’t used it since before I became the Queen of Naboo. It’s Naberrie.”

“What about your first name?” asked Obi-Wan.

Padmé pursed her lips, glancing down at her water glass. “It’s not uncommon on Naboo, I can probably keep using it.”

Luminara opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by an orange-skinned Twi’lek waitress arriving with their food. When she finally left, the conversation had dried up. Padmé picked at her food; Luminara and Obi-Wan didn’t even touch theirs.

After a moment, Luminara looked at Obi-Wan. “May I speak to you, Obi-Wan? Privately?”

An expression of something like anger flashed across Padmé’s face, and then was gone a moment later. Obi-Wan hesitated, but sensed something from Luminara in the Force — he couldn’t tell what, but it was something important. He stood and followed her into a narrow hallway that led to the refresher.

“I need your help,” said Luminara without preamble.

“With what?”

Luminara took a deep breath, and glanced back at Padmé, who was looking more irritated by the minute. Then she looked back at Obi-Wan, and reached out to grasp his hands. Obi-Wan looked down in surprise, at her green hands entwined with his. She closed her eyes. “I’m looking for Barriss.”

“What?” It was all Obi-Wan could do to not jump away from her immediately. “How — why? She’s still in prison, isn’t she?”

“She escaped a few days ago. I got a comm from the Council about it, just to warn me. They don’t know where she is.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He understood — Force, he understood more than he wanted to, but — “Why, Luminara? Why are you looking for her? She’s a loose cannon — she’s _dangerous_.”

“I know — believe me, I know.” Her voice was raw, and she radiated pain in the Force. Obi-Wan knew, more intimately than he would have liked, how she felt. An apprentice going to the dark side was the worst kind of agony, in many ways. “But I had a vision in the Force,” Luminara continued. “She was here, hiding on Umbara. The vision seemed urgent — it needed me here. I left Kashyyyk in the middle of a battle and came here with a small guard, just to look — and then Order 66 happened. I had to kill my troopers — my _men_ , my trusted soldiers — when they tried to kill me, but I survived. I think it was supposed to happen. The Force willed it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t argue with that. He’d wondered, after leaving Utapau, whether the Force had willed his survival, or if it was just a sick coincidence. He had no way of knowing whether his survival had come down to luck or the Force. But Luminara had had a vision — the Force had screamed in her mind to leave her men behind and her post behind. While the Force worked in ways that no being, even the Jedi — try as they might — could understand, the message seemed clear enough. The Force had wanted her to live.

“Have you had any more visions since you arrived?” he asked.

She bit her lip, and withdrew her hands from his. “No. But I have an idea of where Barriss might be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Obi-Wan, the Senator—”

“Padmé can take care of herself for a few hours. Let’s go.”

Luminara nodded. “After we eat.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan let out a soft laugh, and Luminara laughed a bit as well. For a moment, Obi-Wan allowed himself to forget that they were the only Jedi left. Then the memory came crashing down and his breath caught, cutting off his laughter. The grief felt like an impossible weight on his chest.

Luminara didn’t say anything, but she touched his shoulder once, gently, before walking away. He followed a moment later.

* * *

Umbara was beautiful, even shrouded in night.

Obi-Wan felt off and unbalanced without his lightsaber. He couldn’t wear it — it screamed _Jedi_ to any being who’d seen a HoloDrama — so a blaster took its place. Even though they were, technically, similar weapons, it felt clunkier. Wrong. Jedi weren’t meant for such uncivilized weapons. Lightsabers were all they could truly rely on --their most steadfast companions.

Beside him, Luminara flicked her handlight in front of her. Umbara was no longer a battle zone, but it still had the scars. In the Force it felt shrouded and murky, like death and betrayal. Like the dark side. Krell might have been dead, but the echoes of his horrific crimes were all around them. It made things hard to see, hard to sense. Obi-Wan could understand, on a practical level, why Barriss had chosen to hide here. She’d even been at the battle of Umbara, in the space battle — she obviously knew about it, and had experienced the numbing effects. But Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine choosing this place to stay at for any length of time. He was already desperate to leave — staying for longer seemed like self-inflicted torture.

Memories of the battle flashed behind his eyes for a moment. They had been outgunned, outmanned— so many dead—

He pushed away the thoughts.

Luminara glanced at him. “Are you worried?” she asked.

“About Barriss? No. Are you?”

“Not about Barriss,” she said, her voice catching slightly on the name of her former padawan. “About all of this. How are we supposed to hide? How are we supposed to — to not be Jedi?” Her voice was tight with emotion — frustration or sadness or fear, Obi-Wan didn’t know.

“I went undercover during the war,” said Obi-Wan. “I couldn’t act like a Jedi, I had to be a bounty hunter. It was… refreshing.” He’d never told anyone that before. Being Rako Hardeen had been difficult, but it was also immensely freeing to not be a Jedi. To be free of responsibility, of ownership. He’d had no trouble adjusting back to Jedi life, but a tiny, selfish part of him had wished he’d been on the mission a bit longer.

Luminara caught her lip between her teeth, looking away from him. “I don’t know how to not be a Jedi,” she said. “It’s who I am, it’s who I’ve always been.”

“Me too. But we’re not going to stop being Jedi. We just need to stop advertising it.”

“I suppose.” She turned off her handlight; they were in front of a cave, a gaping maw in the side of a hill. “I sense something.”

“I’ll cover you,” he said, pulling out his blaster — _Force, how uncivilized_ — and turned around, watching for movement. He slowly backed into the cave as Luminara advanced, shining her light into the blackness.

“Anything?” he said after a moment of silence.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Look at this.”

Obi-Wan looked around one more time before ducking inside the shallow cave. Luminara was just around a corner, kneeling, the light discarded beside her. Inside the cave was a small room setup — a bag discarded in the corner, an inflatable mattress with a blanket hanging off it, various other items scattered around.

“This is her’s, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan said quietly. Luminara didn’t answer for a moment; she was kneeling next to the bed, one hand fisted in the blanket, head bowed. She looked small, fragile — alone. He’d never thought he’d ever apply those words to Luminara, of all people.

“Yes,” she said after a long moment, and stood with the fluid grace of a Jedi. She wiped a hand across her eyes and didn’t meet Obi-Wan’s gaze as she passed him, going towards the entrance. “She’s not here. Let’s go.”

She pushed past him, not bothering to turn her light back on. Obi-Wan followed, feeling off-balance — Luminara had always been so good at controlling her feelings. For her to be so emotional felt wrong.

They were barely a meter away from the door of the cave when the Force whispered a warning, and Obi-Wan didn’t have time to shout before twin red lightsabers came arcing down towards Luminara.

* * *

**Fifteen Years Later | 4 BBY**

Green plasma flashed towards Ahsoka and she ducked, feeling the heat on the top of her montrals, before sweeping her primary blade low. Luke jumped over her blade and suddenly Leia’s primary saber was coming at her from her left side. She blocked with her shoto and used the momentum to jump, flipping through the air and landing lightly on her feet. Not to be outdone, Leia executed a neat front-flip, Force-assisted, and landed with all her body weight on Ahsoka’s white blades.

Two lightsabers hit two others in a blinding flash of light, and Ahsoka grinned wildly.

“Good job!” She deactivated her sabers and hooked them onto her belt. Leia was smiling, flushed from training. “You two work well together. Twins in the Order tended to stick together — they make great teams.”

The twins smiled at each other before deactivating their sabers. Luke went to get a drink while Leia approached Ahsoka.

“Do you know when we’ll be going on a planet?” she asked hesitantly.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Depends on what your dad says. Since your mom’s on Coruscant, he might want to keep a low profile.”

“We already keep a low profile. Can’t we stop on some Outer Rim planet for a few hours outside of this — this _prison_?”

Ahsoka winced. Put like that, she didn’t know how to argue. She didn’t usually stay with them full-time — she had her own small ship, currently docked — but with Padmé away, Obi-Wan had asked her to come. She, herself, spent a fair amount of time on planets — usually not staying for longer than a few days, but seeing the sights and breathing real air. Occasionally, working as Fulcrum, she’d stayed for a few months on a small Rebellion base, but she knew that Obi-Wan would never allow that for the twins.

“I’ll ask your dad.”

Leia sighed and flopped to the padded floor of the training room. “I miss Alderaan,” she muttered, tracing one finger across the floor. Ahsoka’s chest tightened and she looked away for a moment.

For a few years, it had seemed as though the Empire was getting close, and Obi-Wan and Padmé had made a difficult choice. It was easier and less conspicuous for the two of them to travel together, so they dropped five-year-old Leia and Luke on different planets at the opposite ends of the galaxy. Leia had gone to Alderaan to stay with Bail and Breha Organa, as their adopted daughter — she still technically held the title of princess, and was officially travelling the galaxy with a tutor in order to further her education — and Luke had gone to Tatooine to stay with Vader’s stepbrother and sister-in-law. The twins had had to stay in hiding for seven years, until they were twelve and Obi-Wan deemed it safe enough to take them back.

Ahsoka hadn’t been with them the whole time, but from what she could tell, it had taken a massive toll on both Padmé and Obi-Wan. Not being able to raise their children, to only speak to them through comms and holos, for seven years — well, she couldn’t imagine. The twins had been back for three years now — their fifteenth birthday had passed a few weeks before — but their time away was still obvious. Leia had developed a stronger Core accent, with a more Alderaanian feel, and Luke’s native Coruscant accent had disappeared, replaced with a strong Outer Rim accent. It had reminded her of Anakin’s when she’d first heard it, and even though it had been over a decade by then, it had still hurt like a fresh wound.

The distance had been hard for both Luke and Leia, she could tell. Though they were twins — connected in the Force in a way no one else could possibly understand — there was a disconnect between them now. A feel of unevenness, of almost awkwardness. If even she could tell, she had to wonder how strong it was for them.

Shaking off her thoughts, she turned and left the training room. The halls of the _Golden Sea_ were dim, lit by only emergency lights. By the ship’s cycle— matched to Coruscant time— it was just past 2100, and cold, like space always was. She could feel Obi-Wan’s worry and faint sadness in the Force, and she followed it into the common room of the ship. He sat at the table with a mug of caf, and looked up with tired eyes when she came in.

“How did training go?” he asked as she sat down across from him and dropped her lightsabers on the chair beside her.

“Fine.” She hesitated for a moment, but remembered Leia’s face, and forced herself to speak. “Leia wants to go to a planet.”

He frowned into his mug, then sighed. “Ahsoka, we both know that’s not a good idea.”

“I think it is, actually, Master,” she said, and caught her lip between her teeth. She still called him that sometimes, out of pure habit; it was a reminder of a life neither of them liked to think about anymore. They may have both still been Jedi — she’d reclaimed the title several years ago, though it had been a difficult process — but the Order was gone. Learning how to be a Jedi without a Jedi Order wasn’t something that many, if any, Jedi had ever dealt with. She thought they were doing fairly well, considering.

“Really?” His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm. Ahsoka ignored it.

“They haven’t tasted real air in months, and it’s not good for them to be cooped up in here, especially with Padmé gone. They can’t do anything but worry about her.”

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed again. “Ahsoka, I can’t lose them.”

“I know. I want them safe too, but their mental health is still important. I’ll stay with you the whole time to help protect them.”

“I can’t lose them,” he said again.

She laid one hand on his, her orange skin bright against his. “I understand, Obi-Wan. But I’ll be there. I can keep them safe.”

He just looked at her sadly, and she hissed out a breath between her teeth. Standing, she crossed the room and went into the cockpit. Artoo chirped a greeting at her as she sat down in the Captain’s seat. They weren’t in hyperspace — they were just drifting through blackness. There was nothing around them for lightyears.

“Artoo, what’s the nearest system?” she said. He plugged into the computer and beeped a response.

She pressed her lips together. “Yavin, huh?” She hesitated for a moment, hands hovering over the controls, before giving in and setting course for Yavin 4, the only moon in the system she’d heard of. “Obi-Wan needs to stop moping,” she told Artoo. He warbled a neutral response as the ship beeped a confirmation and she pressed down the lever for hyperspace.

As realspace disappeared and brightness filled the cockpit, she heard running footsteps, and Obi-Wan appeared in the doorway a moment later, red-faced with anger. “Ahsoka, what are you doing?” he asked. A moment later, Luke and Leia appeared behind him. Luke pushed past him into the cockpit.

“Are we going somewhere?” he asked, voice bright with excitement. Ahsoka looked at Obi-Wan expectantly. After a moment, he gritted his teeth and nodded. Leia wrapped an arm around him, and he smiled, a real smile this time.

Luke sat down beside Ahsoka, one hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber. “What planet are we going to?” he asked.

“It’s a moon — Yavin 4,” Ahsoka said, pulling up the HoloNet on her datapad and doing a quick search for the moon. She pulled up a travel site and handed the datapad to Luke. Leia came in further, crowding the room, and sat on the arm of Luke’s chair, swinging her leg as she looked at the datapad from over his shoulder.

Obi-Wan was still looking at her, and Ahsoka couldn’t decipher his expression. She stood and walked over to Obi-Wan, ruffling Leia’s hair affectionately as she passed her. They went out into the hallway, and she stood across from him.

He crossed his arms and looked down. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

“They need it,” she said. “They need something to distract them so they don’t think about Padmé, and with you moping around, they won’t get it here, even with me.”

He sighed and pressed two fingers to his temple. “I know.”

“Good.” She touched his shoulder lightly, and nodded at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep them safe. I promise.”

* * *

Yavin 4 was nicer Ahsoka had thought it would be.

They landed near the biggest city on the planet, which was still in a jungle. It was mostly untouched by sentients, its natural resources preserved. While it was lovely, it wasn’t positioned very conveniently, and so didn’t have much of a tourist industry. And despite some of its dark history — most of which Ahsoka didn’t know, because she’d hated history lessons at the Temple and had usually skipped them in favour of sparring practice — it didn’t feel like the dark side. It was a welcome relief after weeks of travelling in a lonely metal ship in the void of space.

Luke and Leia were clearly enjoying it as well. They’d gone to a park and laid out a blanket, and were eating their lunch. Ahsoka watched them, enjoying the lazy afternoon — the soft light, the warmth. If she had to pick the polar opposite of travelling through space, it would be this.

Obi-Wan, who sat next to her, seemed to be relaxing ever so slightly. He’d been all nerves and paranoia in the Force when they’d first landed. She felt sorry for the first being to approach them after they’d landed — the look he’d given the young human could have melted durasteel. Now, he fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt as he watched Luke and Leia talk quietly. The sunlight streamed down on them, warming Ahsoka to the core.

If Ahsoka could have preserved this moment to revisit later, she would have. It was completely ideal. Well… almost.

After a few hours, when the sun started going down, Obi-Wan rented them two rooms in a small motel. Luke and Leia shared one room, and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka took the other. That night, Ahsoka slept without nightmares.

The next morning, as they were preparing to leave, Obi-Wan’s comlink started beeping. He frowned and answered it, roughening his voice to a loose, Outer Rim accent. “This is Ben Kenobi—”

“Obi-Wan, this is Luminara—”

“ _Lumi_ — why aren’t you using the codes?” He practically spat the words, his native Coruscanti accent creeping back. Terror was coming off him in waves in the Force — possibly an overreaction, but Ahsoka knew he had reason to be paranoid at this point. They were just outside the _Golden Sea_ now — Ahsoka gestured for Luke and Leia to go on, and slowed her pace to match Obi-Wan’s.

“This is urgent. Holo me.” Luminara said. She hung up and Obi-Wan groaned in frustration.

“Force — Ahsoka, get the holoprojector on.” He ran into the ship and she followed, turning towards the common room as he headed for the cockpit.

She heard him shout for Artoo as she set up the holotable to receive calls. A moment later, a call came in. She answered. Luminara’s head and shoulders popped up in front of her, blue and wavering — she was far away, or somewhere without a strong HoloNet connection.

“Ahsoka?”

“Obi-Wan will be here in a moment. Does this concern me at all?”

“It concerns all of us.” She closed her eyes, inhaling, and Ahsoka noticed how she looked — there was a tear in the shoulder of her shirt, her hair — still worn loose, even after all these years, the Empire was looking for Jedi Master Unduli — tangled and dirty, a cut on her cheek.

“Luminara, what’s happened?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then Obi-Wan came in and she exhaled in relief. “Obi-Wan. I’m sorry to be a bearer of bad news.”

"Well, someone has to be.” Ahsoka felt the ship moving around her — Artoo was taking off. Obi-Wan sat down next to her. “What is it? Who does it concern?”

“You. And perhaps me.” She looked down. “It’s Vader, Obi-Wan.”

“What about him?”

“He’s on Coruscant. He’s going to find out that Padmé is there.”

Ahsoka’s stomach dropped out of her body, and Obi-Wan flinched as if Luminara had punched him.

“Oh, no,” Ahsoka said under her breath. “This is not going to end well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to say how sorry I am for how long this took -- tech issues, mostly. Hopefully it won't happen again!
> 
> Thank you to anyone who read, left kudos, or commented -- you're all amazing.
> 
> Thanks to Zoe (@ravensclexa on tumblr) for betaing for me.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @darthsoka or twitter @darlingargents :)


	3. Carnage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't follow anything established by _Ahsoka_ , since it was written long before it came out. I'm not sure exactly how contradictory this fic is -- I haven't read it yet -- but I won't be changing anything to make it fit in with that canon.

**19 BBY**

Luminara reacted immediately, throwing up her green blade to catch the red ones. Light flashed and a dark-robed figure flipped over Luminara and landed, blades held out to her sides. After only a split second, she attacked again, even more fiercely, and Obi-Wan moved out of the way. This was a battle between master and padawan; they may be rare, but they should not be interfered with.

His own was still fresh in his mind.

Obi-Wan watched them fight for maybe a standard minute before getting frustrated. They were here for a reason. He flung out his arms, and Barriss went flying in one direction while Luminara went in the other. Luminara hit the wall of the cave and Barriss hit one of the large, glowing plants at its base.

“We’re not here to fight,” said Obi-Wan sharply. “Barriss, we’ll leave if you don’t want us here, but we just want to talk.”

Barriss stood, awkwardly and a little stiffly. Obi-Wan realized, belatedly, that she might have been hurt by hitting the plant. He couldn’t summon up much sympathy when he remembered seeing Ahsoka standing alone and sentenced to death. Because of Barriss. She walked over to them, gingerly touching her lip. Her fingers came away bloody and she grimaced.

“I’ll talk. But make it quick. I need to leave.” Her eyes were low, and moving quickly, darting in every direction; she looked like a caged animal.

“Do you know what happened?” asked Luminara.

“The Jedi dying? I felt it. Every being with a midichlorian count high enough to register noticed. It’s everywhere. The Force is full of the echoes of the dying.” Her voice was flat and low, her eyes downcast.

Luminara flinched visibly at her words, and Obi-Wan understood how she felt. To see Barriss Offee, model padawan, speaking so flippantly about the genocide of the Jedi was a little bit shocking to say the least.

“The war is over,” said Obi-Wan, when it became clear that Luminara couldn’t speak just yet. “You got what you wanted.”

Her eyes widened, and met Obi-Wan’s. “My people — my _family_ — slaughtered? Masters, you must know I didn’t want that. I objected to the war for moral reasons. I would not support this.”

That was… better, at least. Luminara let out a sharp breath, but it was such a small reaction, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been standing right next to him. Obi-Wan swallowed, throat still dry. “Every being who might be a Jedi is being hunted. The emperor won’t care that you’re no longer a Jedi. A bounty hunter will claim the credits on your head and take you in, dead or alive.”

“The _emperor_?”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Palpatine. Turned out that he was Darth Sidious.”

Barriss smirked, but there was little amusement in her expression. “And the Council _missed_ that?” Obi-Wan looked away, unable to answer, and her smirk grew. “The greatest Jedi of our time. I suppose they really weren’t the Jedi heroes of the Old Republic. I’m glad I got out of _that_.”

“You should be glad you left,” said Luminara suddenly. Obi-Wan glanced at her, a silent question in his eyes, but she didn’t look at him. “It kept you alive. Any Jedi on Coruscant at the time died. Most with their troopers did as well. I got lucky. So did Obi-Wan.” Luminara looked about a second away from falling apart, but her eyes were burning, staring straight at Barriss.

The smirk dropped off the younger Mirialan’s face, replaced by a look of shock. Obi-Wan was pretty sure he knew why —the uncharacteristic caring in Luminara’s voice. Luminara, who’d always been one with the Code, who would never show attachment to her padawan if her life depended on it. Obi-Wan had sometimes wondered if she’d even felt it. Pride, certainly, and caring, but attachment? He couldn’t imagine Luminara allowing herself that. But he was wrong, it seemed. She may have forced it down, refused to acknowledge it, but her attachment — _love_ — of her padawan existed.

And now Luminara’s guard was down, and in response, so was Barriss’s.

He’d never really shied away from attachment when it came to Anakin. He’d tried to hide it — Force, he’d tried, but he’d never been able to. He’d also never been able to let go. Not even now. He’d thought Anakin struggled with attachment but he was far worse because, after everything, he still loved Anakin.

He’d always thought that being a Jedi meant he was always right -- that whatever action he took, the Force was guiding him the right way. But now he wasn’t so sure. If he’d been so wrong with Anakin...

“I’m not lucky,” Barriss said quietly, bringing Obi-Wan back to the situation at hand. “None of us are. Lucky would mean dying with the rest of them. How can we be Jedi without an Order?”

They all fell silent at that. Obi-Wan didn’t point out that Barriss wasn’t a Jedi — he realized, perhaps, that it wasn’t that simple. She had been born a Jedi, raised one; she may have left, but it was in her bones, in her soul. She couldn’t escape it. None of them could. Once, Obi-Wan had found that comforting — the certainty of always having something to belong to. Not anymore. Maybe never again.

“We can learn that,” said Luminara. “We may be the first Jedi for millennia to do so, but we must. Because we are the last and it is our duty to stay Jedi so that we may pass on what we know once the Order is rebuilt.”

“Will it be?” Barriss’s voice was softer now, her head bowed as if in prayer.

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan. “We’ll do it. But we need your help.”

Barriss’s head snapped up. “No, Master Kenobi. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I left the Order. I may be a Jedi — a Gray Jedi, perhaps — but I cannot be a part of the Order any longer. I made my choice, and I will never be a true Jedi again. The Force has chosen my path for me, and it does not take me back to the Order.”

Luminara turned away from Barriss, face twisting in pain, and pressed her head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. She heaved a sob, and Barriss inhaled sharply as Obi-Wan wrapped an arm protectively around her. Obi-Wan noticed that Barriss was wearing something similar to what she’d worn to fight Ahsoka — a black, tightly fitted bodysuit with a flowing black cloak. Her hair was loose, past her chin now, longer than it had been when Anakin had duelled her at the Temple. _And almost killed her. How did we miss that? How did we miss his fall?_

Barriss looked away from them, jaw tight. “I’m sorry, Masters,” she said, voice more formal now. She was no longer vulnerable; she was back in defensive Jedi mode. “I’ve made my choice. I will live with it.”

Luminara pulled away, wiping her eyes. She looked almost confused, and Obi-Wan knew why, he was sure — she wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. The amount of pain and darkness swirling around the Force was affecting all of them.

“Padawan, are you still on the light side of the Force?” she asked, straightening her back, trying to gain a semblance of control.

Barriss stared at Luminara, her face a carefully blank slate. “I am a Gray Jedi, I think. I am neither light nor dark.”

“But do you still believe in the light side?” asked Luminara, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I believe in my own judgement, and that of the Force. What I did to the Jedi was wrong, though my motives were pure. The Force was muddied, clouded by war — it could not guide me to the right way. Now the war is over. I can use the Force as a guide; what it tells me to do, I will do. Where it wants me, I will go. I will serve the Force to atone for what I did. Killing Jedi is unforgivable, but I hope to redeem myself in the eyes of the Force.” Her gaze, which had been on Luminara, focused on Obi-Wan. “I am trying to redeem myself. Are you?”

He swallowed, his mouth dry. “What do I need redemption for?”

She smiled, but there was only sadness in her eyes. “If you have to ask,” she said, flipping the hood of her cloak over her head, “then you have a lot of work to do. And I have my own way to go.” She turned and jumped, a Force-assisted leap that landed her near the top of a hill. She picked up a bag that she must have discarded before coming down to fight Luminara, and looked down at them. It was too dark to see her face from that distance, but Obi-Wan thought that he saw her nod at them.

“Goodbye, Masters,” she said, and she disappeared into the darkness before Obi-Wan or Luminara could say a word.

* * *

**4 BBY**

It was a tense day while Ahsoka and Obi-Wan waited for Luminara to meet them. They travelled through hyperspace to meet Luminara in the Inner Rim — closer than they usually got to the Core, but the fastest way to meet. In the inky blackness of space, Luminara’s small freighter pulled up next to the _Golden Sea_ , and she boarded with her astromech, a chirpy R6 unit painted green.

Once she boarded, the Jedi clustered in the common room around the holotable, Luke and Leia sent off to train. Luminara looked concerned, but calm as always, her panic from her comm pushed aside in favour of cold logic and practicality. Obi-Wan nodded at her to begin, and she took a deep breath.

“I got a comm from my contact on Coruscant two standard days ago. They told me that Lord Vader was rumoured to be returning from an extermination mission in the Outer Rim.”

Obi-Wan flinched at the word _extermination_. Ahsoka didn’t. She’d grown better at controlling herself; Obi-Wan still had a long way to go. He knew it, Ahsoka knew it. So did Padmé.

He’d never really been a good Jedi before. He’d been too aggressive, too convinced of his own righteousness, too attached. He supposed that it didn’t especially matter anymore.

“I needed confirmation,” Luminara continued, “So I looked on the HoloNet. It’s true. He’s on Coruscant. Apparently he was supposed to be away longer.”

“I wonder if Palpatine knew,” said Ahsoka, contemplative. She drummed her fingers on the holotable. “If it interfered with his plans, it could be a good thing—”

“Unless Lord Vader kills Padmé,” said Luminara bluntly. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan both flinched at that.

“He wouldn’t,” said Obi-Wan. “He turned to the dark side for her. His love for her was the only—”

“He tried to kill her,” said Ahsoka. “Force-choked her. He’s deep in the Dark side, Obi-Wan; he can’t be considered predictable. For all we know, he’ll kill her the first chance he gets.” Her eyes bore into his, and what she didn’t say hung in the air between them: _don’t forget who he is, just because of who he was_. They’d had that conversation many times before, and it always came back to those words.

Obi-Wan dropped his head into his hands and tried to hold back the wave of emotion beating at his mind. Padmé, Anakin — two of the people he loved most in the world. At least Luke and Leia were safe. If he held onto that, he’d be okay.

But he still couldn’t let himself imagine Anakin — _Vader_ , Force, what was _wrong_ with him — killing Padmé. He’d seen him Force-choke her before, and it had been a major part of the worst experience of his life. Even thinking of it again was unbearable.

Luminara laid one hand on his arm, and he looked up into her bright blue eyes, the colour not faded by age. If he ignored the faint grey in her hair — far less than in his — and the slight fading of her tattoos, he could pretend they were still young — that the war wasn’t over, that the Order still stood. It was strange how now, the war seemed almost a fond memory. He hadn’t enjoyed it at the time — sometimes it had seemed like a living hell, especially near the end — but now he’d give anything to spend one more day in it.

She wrapped an arm around him. Maybe she couldn’t read his thoughts, but Obi-Wan knew that she could still guess what he was thinking. They’d known each other for so long.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” said Ahsoka.

“Do?”

She shot him an irritated look. “We can’t leave Padmé there. Do we comm her, or—”

“Comm Bail,” said Obi-Wan. “He can contact her directly. Ahsoka?”

She nodded and stood, ducking into her chambers to leave them alone. Once the door slid shut behind her, Luminara sighed and turned to face Obi-Wan.

“This is turning into a mess, Obi-Wan. Why did you send her there in the first place?”

“She thought she might be able to do something if she got back into politics. At the very least, she could provide some information to Bail and the rebellion. It was intended to be short, a quick mission while Vader was away on a wild bantha chase in the Outer Rim. She wasn’t — she wasn’t supposed to be in danger.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“She’ll be fine,” he said, and he believed it. He had to.

If Padmé died, he would have lost almost everyone he’d ever truly loved. He couldn’t live through that. Not again. The pain of the death of a loved one was unimaginable. He’d gone through it before — Qui-Gon, Satine… Anakin. Not Padmé. Not her.

 _At least I’ll still have Luke and Leia_ , he thought, and was instantly furious with himself. He would have all of them, his whole family, because Padmé would be fine.

Ahsoka came back into the room then, ducking in order to avoid hitting her montrals on the doorframe. She held a small datapad in one hand. “I left Bail a message and told him to comm Padmé. The Force only knows if this will work. I recommended that he help her leave, but he has to use his own judgement.”

Obi-Wan nodded. That was the best they could do — for now, at least. Luminara stretched, and looked at Obi-Wan. “How are Luke and Leia?”

“Fine.” He was sensing something from her in the Force, but couldn’t figure out what it was until a wicked grin appeared on her face.

“Do you think they would benefit from some extra training?”

Ahsoka smothered a giggle, and Obi-Wan’s eyebrow shot up. “What can you offer them that Ahsoka or I couldn’t?”

“A real master, maybe?” She was smiling fully now, elbows resting on the holotable, acting completely at ease. Obi-Wan realized that she was doing it for his benefit — that maybe Ahsoka was in on it. An effort to raise his spirits. Perhaps that was what he needed.

“ _I’m_ not a real master?”

“You’re their father.” She jabbed an accusing finger at him. “ _You_ would go easy on them.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it. Ahsoka laughed, and Luminara stood.

“Come on. Training awaits.”

* * *

Within ten minutes, Luminara had fully and successfully kicked both of their asses.

Groaning, Leia sat up, clutching her side where a spin-kick had hit her in the ribs. Her hair had come out of its braid, falling all over her shoulders, and her whole body was damp with sweat. Luke looked no better, but wasn’t even making an effort to sit up — he lay there, eyes unfocused, gazing at the metal ceiling. Obi-Wan would have been worried if he hadn’t been able to sense Luke in the Force — completely drained, but uninjured.

Luminara clapped her hands together. Somehow she managed to look almost completely composed, only a few hairs out of place. “Sit up. Meditating. Ahsoka, grab the cushions.”

Ahsoka grabbed five cushions out of a cupboard and placed them in a circle. Obi-Wan sat down somewhat reluctantly. He’d only begun meditating regularly again in the past five years, but he didn’t do it nearly as much as he had before the Empire. There was still so much death in the Force that he had to be careful not to go too deep.

He hadn’t done a group mediation in decades — since the war, at the very least. It was a different kind of mediation. All members of the group were one with the Force, and each other — they became one being, mentally. It was difficult, and dangerous — the fragile threads of their minds could be snapped so easily. Even Jedi could go mad. But it gave Obi-Wan — and most Jedi, he suspected — a sense of wholeness, of belonging, of being a part of the living Force, not just an extension of its will.

He settled, hands on his knees, as Luminara spoke quietly. She dimmed the lights with a flick of her hand as she began.

“Close your eyes.” Obi-Wan and the others obeyed. “Now clear your mind and allow the Force in. Allow it to wash through you. If your mind wanders, ignore it — allow the Force to push out everything in its path and fill your mind.”

Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing at her words. They were the words of an ancient Jedi mediation, passed down through decades; he’d heard the same one many times as a padawan and junior knight. During the war, this particular practice had fallen mostly to the wayside; group mediations were quick and silent on the front lines, or different meditation practices for those at the Temple. This particular practice was deep, with a focus on connection to the Force and each other. It wasn’t especially helpful during wartime.

“Once your mind is only the Force, reach out. Find the others here. Connect with them; allow your identities, your individual minds, to fall away. You are the Force, you are each other.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan was caught in dizziness. He could feel Luke and Luminara on either side of him, Leia and Ahsoka across the circle — their minds all around his, pressing in, with thin, bright strands of the Force connecting them. The threads that made them who they were wound together, and combined, and fell away as the Force rose around them. It was warmth, and light, and everything that had always made Obi-Wan believe that the Jedi were everything — that there was nothing more worthy to be.

“Stay in this space. Do not sink into the Force; simply allow its beauty and the connection to hold you. Relax.” Luminara fell silent; words were no longer needed.

It felt like several standard hours had passed when they finally unwound their minds and opened their eyes. Luke and Leia both looked refreshed; the older Jedi looked weary, but felt brighter in the Force. Luminara was smiling now, smiling without constraints. Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile, too.

He’d missed that sense of connection. The Order had given him that, once — but it wasn’t gone forever. And he wasn’t willing to wait for it for the rest of his life.

Someday, he knew, he would rebuild it.

* * *

**19 BBY**

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected it to be so easy to rent a ship, but here they were.

The ship was a light freighter — a Kazellis-Class — and nearly new, called the _Incendiary_. After paying with an underground Jedi bank account, Obi-Wan met Padmé, Luminara, and the younglings on the ship rental’s landing strip. Luminara held Luke and he could sense disgruntlement from her in the Force, but her expression betrayed nothing — she was smiling and talking to Padmé.

“Ship’s ready,” he said, and Luminara passed him to get on. Padmé followed, a bit slower, wincing as she walked. Obi-Wan took Leia from her as she passed and she smiled tightly at him. This close, he could see how pale she was and how dark the circles under her eyes were. He took her arm, stopping her from passing him into the ship.

“Are you okay?” he asked under his breath.

She nodded and pulled away, not meeting his eyes as she went into the _Incendiary_.

Inside, they met in the common room. Padmé had put the twins to bed in one of the tiny cabins, and they now sat around the holotable.

“Where to next?” asked Padmé.

Obi-Wan ran one hand down his beard. “I have an idea, but you’d both have to agree to it.” Both women just looked at him, and he sighed. “I want to find Ahsoka.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” asked Padmé. “I’d like to know if she’s alright.”

“As would I,” said Luminara.

“I know, but we could be compromising her safety. And ours.”

Padmé sat up straighter. “She’s like a daughter to me. I’d like to know that she’s alive and safe.” A small, cynical part of Obi-Wan’s mind wondered how much of that sentiment was out of a sense of obligation — that she had to stand up for Ahsoka, since Anakin would no longer protect her. But he didn’t voice his thoughts.

“Of course.” Obi-Wan pressed a button on the side of the holotable and a galactic map sprung up into the air, brightening the room. “Last my contacts heard, she was on Saleucami, in the hot zone.” He gestured. The planet lit up in brighter blue and the whole map zoomed in. “She may have left, but it’s not a bad place to start looking.”

“Why there?” asked Padmé.

“I don’t know. But I think we should head there now.”

“Agreed.” Luminara drummed her fingers on the table. “If we can at least locate her, it would be beneficial to all of us, I think — to us so we can know where she is, and to her, so she can know she’s not entirely alone.”

“I’ll set the coordinates,” said Padmé, and stood to leave. Artoo whistled something in binary and followed her into the cockpit.

Luminara ran both hands over her face. “Are we making a mistake, Obi-Wan?”

“I don’t know. The Force isn’t saying much, as we both know.” A tiny smile quirked at the corner of Luminara’s lips, but it wasn’t a happy smile — it was bitter and cold. A shiver ran down Obi-Wan’s spine. Emotions were overflowing in both of them. They were supposed to be masters, and yet they were as emotional as padawans. Though he supposed that the death of the Jedi was a better reason than most to be overly emotional.

Obi-Wan felt it the moment that the ship left realspace. A moment later, Padmé ducked back into the common room, Artoo behind her. “We’re en route,” she said. “A few hours. I’m going to take a nap.” She crossed the room, walked down the hall and went into the room that the twins were sleeping in.

Obi-Wan stood and stretched, deciding to have a nap as well. It was a long way to Saleucami. He left the common room, and Luminara sat alone at the holotable.

* * *

Saleucami was in high summer on the hottest part of the planet, and the heat was enough to make Padmé dizzy. Most of the planet wasn’t like this, she’d heard, but she supposed that this area’s undesirable climate made it a better place to hide. No one would come here if they weren’t desperate or running from something. Ahsoka, she supposed, was both.

The town that they’d landed at wasn’t very large, and there weren’t many beings in the marketplace, despite — or perhaps because of — the fact that it was the middle of the day. A few bored-looking adolescent Wrooian girls stood in the shadow of a building, talking amongst themselves, and a Weequay man sat behind a fruit stall, a datapad in his hand.

Padmé had put a tan scarf over her head to help with the heat, but it wasn’t helping much; she pulled it tighter around her neck and sighed when she realized that it was already damp with sweat. Beside her, Obi-Wan was red-faced, but clearly focused on something — his eyes were narrow, scanning the marketplace.

“This way,” said Obi-Wan suddenly, and Padmé followed him, Luminara coming behind her a bit slower. The heat was clearly getting to her, perhaps more that the others. Padmé had heard that her homeworld, Mirial, was a colder planet; the heat couldn’t be very enjoyable for her, either.

Obi-Wan wove his way through the marketplace and into the residential streets. The shadows were far more comfortable, and there were a few more beings around — a pair of Twi’lek women talking in Twi’leki as they passed Padmé, several Gran children playing some sort of game in an alley, a human boy and a Wroonian girl sitting at the bottom of a staircase and whispering to each other. As they went deeper into the city, Padmé became slightly more comfortable; she pulled off the scarf and wound it around her wrist.

Obi-Wan stopped outside a narrow alley that looked exactly like every other alley they’d passed so far. Luminara went around Padmé to stand next to Obi-Wan.

“Here?” she said softly.

Obi-Wan nodded, and they walked down the alley. Three houses down, Obi-Wan stopped in front of a red-painted front door. His hand drifted to his hip before he seemed to realize that he wasn’t carrying his lightsaber. He balled his hand into a fist and knocked sharply on the door three times.

A moment later, both he and Luminara jumped slightly — something in the Force, Padmé was guessing. Obi-Wan pushed open the door with the Force and ran in, Luminara close behind him. Padmé followed more slowly. The house was small, with a narrow hallway, empty door frames on each side, and a staircase at the end of the hall. Obi-Wan and Luminara had gone into the first room on the left, and Padmé followed them in.

Ahsoka was in there with Luminara and Obi-Wan. She looked terrified, one hand on the blaster strapped to her leg, but she relaxed marginally once she saw Padmé. The room was tiny, the only furniture a stained couch and a low, battered table — Ahsoka was living rough, she could tell. It was even obvious on her person; her clothes, while clean, were torn in spots and somewhat ill-fitting. A flash of anger tore through her. The Order had good as kicked her out, and without a credit to her name; she was lucky she even had a home, though it hardly seemed like a permanent one.

“What do you want?” she asked, gaze going from Padmé — where it had been since Padmé had entered the room — to Luminara, and then to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan held up his hands, as if to show he was unarmed. “Nothing. We’re here to talk.”

Ahsoka hesitated for a moment, and then unstrapped her blaster and dropped it on the floor. “Okay. Talk.”

“Do you know what happened?” asked Luminara quietly.

Her gaze flicked to Luminara, eyes cold. “Of course I do. I’ve seen the Holonet. And I felt it.” One hand drifted to her chest, just over her heart, and a spasm of pain flashed across her face. “The end of the Jedi.”

“We’re still alive,” said Obi-Wan, gesturing with one hand to himself, Luminara, and Ahsoka.

She shrugged, listless, and sat down on the couch, kicking her booted feet against it. “Yeah. Good for us.”

“Why are you living here?” asked Padmé instinctively. She hadn’t meant to ask, and from Ahsoka’s expression, she probably shouldn’t have.

“This is where my credits ran out. It turns out it’s a lot more expensive to travel if you don’t have the Republic paying for it. I’m working a bit, but I stand out here, and not many people will hire me. I’m trying to save for a ship, but that’s a lot of credits, and I need to pay rent.”

“We can get you a ship,” said Obi-Wan. “And access to the Jedi accounts, and contacts. You don’t have to be alone, Ah—”

“What do you want?” she asked abruptly. “You aren’t just here to chat.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her brows furrowed, and she leaned back against the couch, mouth twisted. “You were keeping tabs on me, I assume.”

“It would be irresponsible not to,” he said, though Padmé noticed a hint of guilt on his face.

She snorted softly. “Right. And leaving me to fend for myself in the middle of the war wasn’t irresponsible at all.” Obi-Wan looked away from her, bowing his head in shame.

“Ahsoka, he simply wanted to know that you are _safe_ ,” said Luminara, stepping forward slightly. “This isn’t about keeping track of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“It’s harsh galaxy,” said Padmé quietly. All eyes in the room focused on her, all showing surprise. She didn’t think they’d forgotten she was in the room, but they probably hadn’t thought she’d talk after her initial question; this was Jedi business, really. She pushed on. “And we want to be sure you’re okay, because it just got a lot more dangerous for a Jedi.”

“I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“Ex-Jedi, then,” said Obi-Wan. “The point is, we can help you. Can you stay in contact with us regularly?”

Something that wasn’t quite a smile pushed the corners of her lips up. She tilted her head up slightly, thinking. “If I have a ship. Saleucami has sandstorms sometimes that cut out the Holonet for days.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan nodded to himself. “We can get you a ship. Will you come with us, then?”

She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. “Wait outside. I’ll get my stuff.”

Luminara, Padmé and Obi-Wan filed out of the house and into the alley. It was even hotter, now; Padmé put the scarf back over her head and tightened it. Luminara, who was wearing a black Mirialan headdress again, looked uncomfortably hot, and Obi-Wan just looked miserable, red-faced and damp with sweat.

A pair of Wroonian children ran past them and Obi-Wan stepped out of the way instinctively, with the unmistakeable grace of a Jedi. Padmè’s eyes widened and she glanced at him in shock. He winced, belatedly, realizing what he’d done. Luminara just sighed and fanned herself with one hand.

Only a few standard minutes later, Ahsoka stepped out of the house, a bag slung over her back, wearing a poncho with a hood that covered her head and left small holes for her montrals to poke out. “Ready?” she said with false cheeriness. They all nodded halfheartedly and they made their way out of the town. Ahsoka stopped once to talk to an older Gran man — her landlord, she explained later — and then they stopped in the marketplace for a cheap meal before going back to the spaceport.

Once they were on the _Incendiary_ , Ahsoka immediately dropped her bag to take a shower. After she got out, she explained, sheepishly, that her home on Saleucami hadn’t had running water.

“Just a sonic shower,” she said. Her towel was still in her hands, and she was dressed casually. They all sat around the table in the common room, the ship hurtling through hyperspace towards the nearest planet with a ship for sale — Jabiim. “I don’t mind sonics, but they hurt my montrals if I use them too often. Real water is a lot nicer.”

Padmé nodded distractedly — Luke was crying and she didn’t know what was wrong with him. She’d left the the babies with the droids, since she didn’t want to risk taking them onworld, but now she was wondering if that had been a poor decision. She shifted Luke to her other arm and sighed under her breath. Obi-Wan, who was standing near her and across from Luminara, who stood alone on the other side of the room, tossed her a sympathetic look.

Ahsoka dropped the towel on the table, suddenly looking more serious. Padmé was reminded for a moment of how young she truly was — only seventeen. She’d been sixteen when she left the Jedi Order. She remembered that she’d commed Anakin on her birthday, coincidentally, and hadn’t realizedwhy he had been so quiet and withdrawn until after she hung up.

She lowered her head, eyes closed, and spoke quietly. “Anakin’s dead, isn’t he?”

Padmé wasn’t sure which of the three of them was the most horrified.

* * *

**4 BBY**

Padmé didn’t realize how much she’d idealized the memory of the Galactic Senate until now. During her fifteen years on the run, she’d thought of her days as a Senator as simpler times, but now she remembered how Force-damned _tedious_ the Senate was. The Imperial Senate was no better than the Galactic Republic’s; actually much worse, because she _knew_ that there was no chance of doing anything. Even just watching, like she’d been doing today, was agonizing.

Pulling out various hairpieces and tossing them on the dressing table, she sat down on the bed and considered just lying down and sleeping right then, still in her dress — but no, she had an appearance to keep up. With a sigh, she stood and began the lengthy process of taking off her gown.

When she was finally in her nightgown, she grabbed her datapad and slid into the bed, dropping her comlink on the bedside table. The datapad contained all of her notes from the Senate session. They weren’t of much of use, but she saved them anyway to send to Bail once she was offworld.

She was contemplating which Holodrama to catch up on when her comlink rang. With a frown, she answered. “This is Padmé Amidala—”

“This is Bail,” said a near-frantic male voice. “Padmé, he’s on Coruscant.”

“What?” She sat up. “Who’s on Coruscant?”

“Darth Vader.”

Her blood ran cold. Just the name was enough to chill her to the core. All those years, she’d never truly thought she’d see him again. She had feared it, but she knew she’d rather die than go to him. But now? Death wouldn’t be a choice, if that was what he wanted.

Bail was still talking urgently, but she simply said “Thank you for telling me, I have to go,” and hung up. She lay back down, and after a moment of consideration, put on some relaxing music on her datapad before closing her eyes.

If she was going to die, she would die like a warrior, like she’d always known she would if she needed to.

* * *

It seemed like only minutes later when Padmé awoke, her room completely black. She’d turned off her lamp at some point before falling asleep, she realized. The music was still playing, a soft concerto; she turned it off, and turned the lamp back on. She couldn’t see anyone, but a shiver on the back of her neck told her that she wasn’t alone.

She stood, grabbed her datapad off the table, and slowly walked towards the door. The chill and the sick feeling in her gut got stronger — her adrenaline spiked, and she almost ran to open the door.

There was no one there.

A footfall sounded behind her, and she spun. Yellow eyes stared at her from under a black cloak as she looked at a face she hadn’t seen in person for fifteen years.

In a fit of idiocy, she swung the datapad. It was an inch away from his head when her hand froze in place. Casually, he reached up and pushed her hand down to her side, plucking the datapad from her immobile fingers and dropping it soundlessly on the carpet.

“You’re alive,” Vader said softly, voice reverent, as if in prayer. He moved closer, until his face was inches from hers. His eyes were so bright, the light shining around them casting shadows against his eyelashes. He blinked, and then moved away slightly. “Sleep well,” he said, and waved a hand. Everything went black as the floor came rushing up to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY again for the massive wait. Real Life is happening. Hopefully quicker updates from here on? I will _definitely_ be finishing this fic, though, however long it takes.
> 
> Massive thanks again to Zoe ([ravensclexa](http://ravensclexa.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for betaing for me. You can find me on all the time on [twitter](https://twitter.com/darlingargents) or during the evening on [tumblr](http://darthsoka.tumblr.com/) :)


	4. All Ends Are Beginnings

**19 BBY**

The silence grew and grew until Ahsoka slammed her palm down on the holotable with a metallic thud. “You know, I’m not a youngling. You can tell me.” Her voice was tight with anger, her lekku stiff with fear. Obi-Wan had learned years ago to recognize the signs of distress in her species; she’d never been his padawan officially, but with Anakin being so young to have his own padawan, he’d always felt like a co-master.

Luminara looked down and stepped towards the door, stopping next to Obi-Wan to whisper, “You two can take this,” before leaving. It was just Padmé, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka now. And, of course, the twins; Luke was still crying and Leia was asleep. Obi-Wan took Luke from Padmé and brushed his mind with the Force.

“He’s tired,” he said under his breath to Padmé, who nodded and took the baby back from him, rocking Luke gently in her arms. Ahsoka was still staring at them accusingly, her mouth sharply downturned. The dim light from the lamp in the ceiling cast odd shadows on her face, making her Togruta markings look distorted.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said, her voice wavering. “My master—my master is dead, isn’t he? And I deserve to know what happened. I—I _need_ to know what happened.” She lowered her head, covering her eyes with one hand, and let out a soft sob. Padmé looked at Obi-Wan, stricken.

Ahsoka raised her head, eyes still damp with tears, and met Obi-Wan’s gaze. “I need to know what happened to—to Anakin,” she said, her voice breaking at the end, but still firm — intended to get results.

Obi-Wan sat down heavily next to Padmé. He felt as though he’d aged a decade in the past few days, but he’d been too caught up in running and hiding to really notice it. He rested one hand on the table, and Padmé laid her smaller, less scarred hand over top without prompting. It was only with a tremendous amount of self-control that he didn’t react. Ahsoka’s eyes just skated over it and seemed to file away the information for later; in that moment, she was focused on one thing. She leaned across the table.

“How did he die?” she asked softly.

Obi-Wan looked down at the battered table. It had a surprising number of gouges and scratches for such a new ship. He spared a single thought to the previous renters of the ship before focusing on the topic at hand. “Ahsoka…”

“Tell me,” she said, in a voice that left no room for argument.

“He died a hero. He protected the younglings until the end, but the clones shot him down. The Empire’s might was too much.” The lie hurt as he spoke, hurt because of how much he _wanted_ it to be true. Force, what he wouldn’t have given for that to be true.

“Why would the clones turn on us?” she mused aloud, before her eyes narrowed and snapped back to Obi-Wan. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he lied. Padmé made a sound somewhere between a snort of laughter and a sniff of disdain.

Ahsoka didn’t say anything, just studied him. Her huge blue eyes roamed over his face and then to Padmé and back to him. “Is my master alive, Obi-Wan?”

“No,” he said, and she frowned, clearly sensing the truth in his words.

“But Anakin Skywalker is alive.”

There was no point in denying the truth any longer. He’d already told this story before; he could do it again for Ahsoka. She was one of the few beings who absolutely had to know. “The man who was once Anakin Skywalker still exists, but he is no longer your master, or a Jedi. He—he is a Sith.”

“No,” Ahsoka said sharply. She sat back and crossed her arms. “My master would never do that. You’re wrong.”

“I saw it with my own eyes. He—he killed younglings. He slaughtered Jedi. He led the clones into the temple and—”

“ _No_ ,” said Ahsoka, leaning even farther away. She shook her head from side to side, as if that would make the truth up and disappear. “No— _no_ , he’s not a _Sith_!”

“He tried to kill me,” said Padmé softly. “Ahsoka — he is not Anakin Skywalker anymore. I’m sorry.”

Ahsoka’s hand drifted up to rest over her heart, and she pressed her lips together as if she were trying not to cry. After a moment, she gave in, laid her arms on the table, dropped her head onto them, and began to sob. Padmé slid across the bench to rest one hand gently on her back, and Obi-Wan stared down into his lap. The guilt was still eating him alive. The _what ifs_ , the constant thought in the back of his mind that he should have _known_ , should have seen, should have done more for Anakin. Force knew what Ahsoka was feeling, but it was likely just as bad as what he felt.

Ahsoka lifted her head, rubbing her sleeve harshly across her eyes and waving away Padmé’s hand. Her eyes were swollen, but she’d forced herself to stop crying. She took a ragged breath, and looked at Obi-Wan, more calm than she’d been before.

“So what do we do?” she asked with forced calmness.

Obi-Wan looked down at the holotable. “There’s not much we can do, at least not right now. We have to protect the twins.”

“You can.” She took a deep breath. “I… I’ve heard some things from the underworld. News of a — a rebel alliance, those who don’t support the empire. I might be of some help to them.”

“Not until you’re older,” said Obi-Wan automatically, and a half-smile flicked onto her face for a moment. Only a moment, but it was… it was better. A reminder of a life that seemed like a million years ago.

“You’re not my master,” she said.

“He just cares about you,” said Padmé. “As do I. And I agree. You need to hide right now, not run into this — this _alliance_ blindly.”

Ahsoka looked at Padmé, and her eyes widened as she seemed to remember something. “I heard — well, I’m not sure how reliable it is, but I heard that your friend — the senator from Alderaan—”

“Bail?” Padmé blinked in confusion.

“Yeah, him — that he’s working to form the alliance. I don’t know if it’s true, especially since he’s such a respected senator—”

“Exactly why he would,” said Padmé, clarity dawning in her eyes. “He’s respected and known enough that it would be a hassle to get him out of office, even if there were whispers of treason. A lot of senators — myself included, likely — could be politically assassinated with little or no fuss, but not Bail Organa. The Core World senators always have more power.”

“That makes sense.” Ahsoka nodded to herself. “If it is Bail, I can be a liaison between you — contact him for you, take all the risks.”

“We don’t _want_ you taking those risks, Ahsoka,” said Obi-Wan, his voice heavy with disapproval. He knew he was being overprotective, but he couldn’t help it — not after losing Anakin so recently. Ahsoka was still alive, still breathing, still herself; the idea of his actions leading to her death, directly or not, was so horrifying that he couldn’t even let himself imagine it.

“You _can’t_ risk the younglings. Look, I know it’s dangerous, but I was a commander in one of the worst wars in history. Danger isn’t new to me.”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment, and then nodded. Force, he wanted her safe, but the safety of the galaxy… it was worth more. It had to be. If he didn’t agree to that, he couldn’t be a Jedi. Selflessness was more important than almost anything else. Ahsoka was only seventeen, but her mind was older. All of them were too old for their age.

* * *

Ahsoka knew that this wasn’t the end, but Force, it felt like it. When she had walked away from the temple, knowing she could never return, it had felt the same. She had been wallowing in her misery for the last few hours, but now she pulled herself out of her head and back into the moment.

“It’s a nice ship,” she said, running her hand down the hull. Obi-Wan nodded, but he was still negotiating the purchase with the green-skinned Rodian seller. They had landed on Alderaan a few hours before, and sought out the best place to buy a ship. This one was a YV-545 called the _Snowbird_ , and it was beautiful. It was all hers.

She’d wanted her own ship ever since she lost her Starfighter. This wasn’t quite the same, but it would do.

Obi-Wan shook hands with the Rodian and walked over to her as the Rodian walked away. “It’s a good model,” he said. “Can you fly it?”

Ahsoka snorted with laughter. “Of course I can.”

“Right.” He looked somewhat skeptical, but shrugged. “We still need to buy a ship. Padmé and I, I mean. This business will be very happy, I think.”

Ahsoka nodded. Luminara had bought her own ship here a few hours ago as well, though she wasn’t with them now — she’d gone off to ‘take care of business’ elsewhere on Alderaan and was meeting them tomorrow. “How much was it?”

“Forty thousand credits — pretty good deal, even if I think it could have been a few thousand lower. But the Jedi underground accounts haven’t been found yet, and they weren’t completely depleted by the war.”

Ahsoka smiled and turned away from the ship, facing Obi-Wan directly. “Should we fly this out of here, park at the palace?”

“Not the palace,” he said hastily. “Padmé is meeting the Organas elsewhere. But I can direct you there.”

Ahsoka nodded and they stepped onto the ship. It was was clearly used, but well-maintained and clean. She made a mental note of the layout as they made their way to the cockpit. Obi-Wan strapped in beside her as she sat down in the pilot’s seat, and finally, _finally_ , flew her own ship.

Flying a Starfighter was exhilarating, breathtaking, but it didn’t feel the same as having an entire ship under your control — and a ship that was _hers_ , only hers. She grinned without thinking and for a few moments, the fear and grief of the present fell away. It was only the sky, and her ship, and it was everything.

* * *

They landed on a small landing strip outside of a classical Alderaan country home an hour north of the city. The _Incendiary_ was parked next to a small luxury transport painted gold. Ahsoka landed carefully and confidently, grinning as she set down perfectly in place.

“See! I can fly,” she said as the ship powered down. She turned in her seat to grin at Obi-Wan, who looked somewhat impressed despite himself — and despite his general attitude towards flying.

“Yes, I can see that.” He unbuckled and stood, reaching for his lightsaber automatically before his hand stilled as he remembered. He left the cockpit quickly.

Ahsoka looked down, biting her lip. She’d nearly stopped doing that, now. She’d had a few more months to adjust to non-Jedi life. And it helped that she no longer had her lightsabers at all — they’d been lost in the chaos during the ordeal. Her lightsabers had been with her throughout the war, and while Jedi shouldn’t be attached to anything, her throat still tightened when she thought about it. Sometimes it was so, so hard to accept that she was no longer a Jedi.

Now, there was no way she _could_ be. It was different. It was sobering. It was much, much worse.

She hadn’t thought, during those awful few months, that it _could_ be worse. The war had been gruelling and exhausting and painful, but she’d had a purpose. She’d felt like she was making a difference, and she’d felt like she belonged to something bigger than herself. Leaving it, going from constant action to doing odd jobs to survive for no greater purpose, had been like going from hyperspace travel to walking.

Now her world had shrunk again. Her master, gone — she felt sick, still, every time she thought about it. The entire Order was gone. She was more alone than ever.

Shaking off her thoughts, she stood and left the ship.

She couldn’t brood on the past forever.

Obi-Wan was waiting for her outside, and didn’t say anything about the extra time she’d taken. He just walked with her to the house and went inside with her. It was luxurious, artistic, and beautiful — a true Alderaanian home. In the living room, Padmé sat on the couch next to Breha and across from Bail, deep in discussion with both of them. Breha held Leia in her arms, and Padmé held Luke.

Hearing them come in, Padmé glanced towards the door. “Ahsoka — Obi-Wan! Did you buy the ship?”

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, moving past Ahsoka to sit beside Bail. Short on options, Ahsoka perched on the arm of the couch, next to Padmé. “Ahsoka has her own ship now. We should probably buy one, Padmé — we can’t keep using the rental.”

Padmé nodded. “Right. Ahsoka, you know Bail and Breha, right?”

“We’ve met before,” said Bail. Breha shook her head, but smiled at Ahsoka and inclined her head in greeting.

“We were just discussing — well, the Empire.” Padmé nodded towards Bail. “Bail thinks that he can help start up a movement to resist the Empire.”

“The Rebel Alliance, right?” said Ahsoka. Bail glanced at her and nodded, looking determined.

“I saw a child who could barely be a teenager gunned down in front of me. I’m not going to ignore it. We will take down this regime, even if it takes the rest of our lives.” He looked back at Padmé. “I’ve contacted Mon about it. She’s going to help me.”

Padmé started in surprise, and then grinned. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Tell her I’m very happy for her.”

“I will.” Bail nodded decisively. “And Padmé, I know you want to help—”

“I need to help,” she said firmly.

“—but you can’t, not directly. The Emperor is looking for you. Vader believes you to be dead.”

“He does?” said Obi-Wan, looking at Bail in confusion. “How do you know that?”

“He was speaking about it on _Coruscant-Galactic Daily_ a few days ago,” said Breha. “He revealed his marriage, and spoke of the pain of his wife’s death.” Her lip curled in disgust. “The HoloNet boards are full of sympathy and sadness for him. You’ve been publicly identified as his wife, as well. The galaxy mourns you.”

Padmé looked as though she was going to throw up. “That’s… that’s vile.”

“It is,” said Ahsoka quietly. Padmé touched her arm lightly, a small point of contact to acknowledge her, though she still looked sick with horror.

She covered her face with her hands. “What can I do?” she asked after a moment, voice muffled. “I need to do something. I can’t let the emperor win. I can’t let Palpatine win.”

“I’ll comm you as often as is safe,” said Bail. “But, to be honestly, I don’t think we can do much right now. Eventually, yes, but in the immediate present, the priority should be to protect you.”

“Why would the Rebel Alliance care about me?” asked Padmé. “You’re supposed to be taking down the Empire.”

“The children will be raised as Jedi, correct?” said Breha, directing the comment to Obi-Wan. He nodded. “So they are useful. Their safety is dependant on yours. Therefore, we should keep all of you safe. It’s common sense.”

“I suppose,” said Padmé, looking down at Luke in her arms. “I just don’t know how to do nothing. And it will be years, won’t it?”

“You do know how to do nothing,” said Bail, half-smiling. “You were in the Galactic Senate. You spent most of your time doing nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “That was work. That was trying, even if I failed so often. This is just… sitting on my hands for two decades until my children are old enough to rise up and defeat the emperor.”

“Exactly,” said Bail, and his expression became serious. “Padmé, you are an amazing Senator. You want to help people — it’s what you’re best at. And this is the safest thing for the galaxy. I believe that you can help us in the meantime.”

She was silent for a moment, hand fisted in her lap — Ahsoka could feel her tension and anger in the Force. After a long moment, she nodded.

* * *

They stayed the night at the Organa’s country home. Ahsoka would have just left that day, but she got the sense that Obi-Wan and Padmé still didn’t want to be alone — and she wanted to say goodbye to Luminara tomorrow. The room she was given was decorated tastefully and full of plush fabrics, the bed so soft she could sink into it. After months of living rough and years before that of spending half of her nights on the front lines and sleeping on the ground, it felt like far too much opulence. She didn’t sleep much; after she changed out of her day clothes, she sat on the windowsill and looked up at the stars.

It was a clear night, and the depths of space were beautifully clear. Ahsoka always found it fascinating, how the stars changed from planet to planet. Every planet had its own constellations and myths based off of them. Early in the war, she’d made a point to research the myths of each planet she was assigned to. She’d only managed a few months before giving up out of pure practicality; she was deployed over and over to so many places that she didn’t have the time. The records were still stored on her personal holocron, which was tucked in her bag. She hadn’t let herself look at it for a while. She knew that if she did, she’d find recordings of Anakin, and she wasn’t ready to face that. Before it had been a matter of missing him too much, but now she couldn’t even think about him without feeling sick to her stomach.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and rested her head against the window. It was a cool night, and her lekku were cold, pressed against the pane of transparisteel, but she ignored it. A tear slid out of her eye and fell onto her hand; she squeezed her eyes tighter and rubbed her fist across them.

There was a knock on the door. “Ahsoka?” called a weary male voice.

“Come in,” she said, unfolding her legs and stepping off the windowsill as Obi-Wan came in. The door slid shut behind him as he stood awkwardly a few feet away from her.

“Yes?” she said after a moment.

He started, as if he’d been lost in thought. “Right. May I sit?”

“Of course.” He took a seat on a small couch facing the bed, and Ahsoka sat down — or more accurately, sank down — on top of the covers. The lights were dim, too dim to see his face, so she turned them on with a flick of her hand.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, seemingly intent on studying the pattern of the pants he was wearing. After a long moment, he spoke. “Will you be safe, on your own?”

Ahsoka blinked in surprise. “Of course I will. Didn’t you wonder that when I left the Order?”

“Yes, but you weren’t being hunted then.”

For some reason, his words, while relatively innocuous, incensed her. “I was still alone. And you didn’t say a word at my hearing. You didn’t do _anything_. Their minds were made up before I entered the building and I was sent away, and you did _nothing_.” Her voice was low, and icy with rage; she hadn’t realized how angry she was at Obi-Wan. Anakin had done nothing wrong when she had been framed, but Obi-Wan’s inaction had nearly gotten her executed for sedition.

He looked down, a grief as old as the stars radiating off of him. “I… I don’t have any excuses, Ahsoka.”

“I don’t think there is any excuse, Obi-Wan,” she said quietly. Her anger was mostly gone, replaced with sadness. The murkiness of the Force was one reason for her outburst, but she knew it couldn’t account for all of it. She was losing control. She’d never been fully under control; she’d always had to work on it, but being alone had amplified it more than she’d realized.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. “I was… disturbed by how far the Council seemed to have fallen. I didn’t understand how they could sentence one of our own to such a fate, even one who seemed to have fallen to the dark side. And the evidence seemed clear; I had no reason to speak up, even though my feelings told me it was wrong.” He shrugged listlessly. “Like I said, no excuse. I regret it more than you’ll ever know.” There was an undercurrent of something else; Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, thinking, until it clicked.

“You think that if I had stayed, Anakin wouldn’t have fallen.”

He didn’t respond, and Ahsoka bit back a sob, digging her teeth into her fist. She hadn’t thought of that yet, but she supposed it would have been only a matter of time until she began blaming herself for his fall. It was a different thing altogether to know that Obi-Wan blamed her.

“I don’t blame you,” he said after a moment, and she closed her eyes.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just… don’t.”

“Ahsoka, I don’t blame you. I blame myself. And Palpatine. But no one is more innocent in this than you are.” He stood, crossing the short space between them and placing his hands over hers. “Ahsoka, it’s not your fault.”

Ahsoka had tried to hold it back, but at that, she began to cry, leaning into Obi-Wan and letting out the sobs she’d buried within her. He sat down next to her on the bed, and she rested her head against his shoulder as she cried.

It felt like a long time later when she finally stopped, leaning away from him and rubbing her eyes. He put his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, Ahsoka?” His voice was gentle, kind.

She nodded. “I will be.”

* * *

It was a cold, overcast day the next morning. Padmé and Obi-Wan bundled up in borrowed winter clothes — the Organas were fond of skiing, and while it wasn’t quite winter yet on Alderaan, it was almost cold enough — and flew the _Incendiary_ into the city. Obi-Wan took it back to the rental agency, where he paid a few credits for it to be transferred back to Umbara, and met Padmé at the business where they’d bought Ahsoka’s ship the day before.

“What’s this one?” Padmé was saying as Obi-Wan approached her and the Rodian seller.

“YV-100,” he said. “Very good choice, if I do say so myself. Plenty of storage space, laser cannons, class 3 hyperdrive — and this one is second hand, very good condition.”

“How much?” asked Obi-Wan. Padmé glanced at him as he moved to stand beside her.

“60,000 credits,” he said. Obi-Wan sighed — he didn’t enjoy spending money, he never had, and had rarely had the opportunity to get used to it — but nodded in agreement and agreed to inspect the ship while Padmé paid. He’d given her access to the Jedi account the night before; they were some of the only beings using it anymore, and that she wasn’t a Jedi was irrelevant. Once, the difference might have seemed insurmountable. It still was, perhaps, but in a different way. The Jedi had once been removed from the rest of the galaxy by their responsibilities and life, and the lives lived by other beings had been almost impossible to understand; now all the Jedi that were left carried the burden of being the last of their kind, something Padmé would never know.

Obi-Wan stepped inside the ship, walking around and examining it. Large storage areas — one could be converted to a training room, he thought, and felt a strange excitement. It was ridiculous, but he was almost looking forward to training Luke and Leia. As if training them to be good Jedi would make up for his earlier failure.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Not now.

The ship was fine. He exited to see Padmé shaking hands with the Rodian and turning to him with a grin.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. The Rodian turned to leave, but he called out for him to wait. The Rodian turned around to look back at them.

“What’s the ship’s name?” he asked.

“The _Golden Sea_ ,” said the Rodian before leaving.

“That’s a nice name,” said Padmé.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything for a moment, lost in thought. The future seemed like it was finally clear, not just an impossible set of challenges. It wasn’t precognition, it was just a sense of finally seeing a way out of the dark, even if it was so far away.

“Obi-Wan?” said Padmé, touching his arm. Obi-Wan started, and smiled at her.

“Let’s meet the others.”

* * *

They met in front of the Organa’s country home. Padmé and Obi-Wan in front of their new ship, Ahsoka ready to leave, the Organas there to see them off. Luminara had landed there in her new, green-painted ship and met them outside. It was storming now, and they stood near the front door, just under the roof, rain pouring down around them.

“So this is it,” said Obi-Wan after a long moment of silence. Padmé shifted on her feet, cold in the damp air, arms crossed over her chest. Luke and Leia were already on the ship with the droids; she felt slightly worried about them. It was a little nerve-wracking to have them out of sight.

Luminara nodded, looking composed and sage as usual. Ahsoka, who was shivering visibly, just smiled weakly. Obi-Wan looked down, and nodded to himself. “We’ll see each other again.”

“May the Force be with you,” said Padmé suddenly. She’d never said it before, but she’d heard Jedi say it; it felt like the right words for the moment. Ahsoka blinked back tears, and flung her arms around Padmé’s neck. Startled, Padmé almost jumped, but hugged Ahsoka back.

Pulling away, Ahsoka looked a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I just — thank you. All of you,” she said, addressing Obi-Wan, Luminara, and the Organas. Luminara inclined her head, smiling softly, and Obi-Wan smiled at her and hugged her with one arm.

There was no more reason to delay; they made their ways out to their ships, all nearly drenched by the time they got inside. For a moment, while Obi-Wan powered up the ship, Padmé stood in the doorway. She watched the Organas go back into their house, watched as Luminara’s ship rose soundlessly and flew off into the sky. She watched Ahsoka press the button to open the door and step inside before pausing and turning around, her eyes meeting Padmé’s.

Padmé nodded at her, and Ahsoka raised one hand in a sort of salute as the door slid shut. A few moments later, her ship powered on and rose into the sky.

“Padmé?” called Obi-Wan from the cockpit. “I need a co-pilot, and Artoo is terrible at it.”

“Coming,” she called back, but didn’t move until Ahsoka’s ship was a tiny speck in the distant gray sky. Then she stepped back and let the door shut in front of her. She turned around and walked down the narrow hall towards the cockpit.

For now, they were apart, but they would meet again. She knew it in her bones. “May the Force be with us all,” she said quietly, and felt, finally — at peace.

* * *

**4 BBY**

Padmé woke to darkness.

The room she was in was pitch black. It didn’t make a difference if her eyes were open or closed. Panic filled her, crushing her chest, and she heard a choked noise that she knew must have been her. She forced down her emotion. She needed to evaluate the situation.

This wasn’t her room on the _Golden Sea_ , with Obi-Wan asleep next to her. This wasn’t her too-new bedroom on Coruscant. She was standing up, but fastened into place against _something_ , with thick straps across her shoulders, torso, and knees. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable — whatever she was on was padded, and she was at least somewhat tilted back — but since she was still in her nightgown, her ankles and arms were freezing. On that note — she realized that cold air was blowing down into the room, ruffling her hair.

_A hot planet. Or a planet during summer_. Not Coruscant; it was the middle of winter there, and while the industrialization had evened out the seasons — relatively speaking — it was still cold there. No one would be using air coolers.

A light suddenly came on, and she flinched back on instinct. There was no one there. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she scanned the room.

Gunmetal gray walls — probably durasteel. Door closed. Bare, spartan — but almost definitely not a cell. A long table with chairs all around it took up most of the room. Strange. She glanced down at herself. She still couldn’t tell what it was she was strapped to, but she could see that she was definitely still in her nightgown. It was torn along the hem, and bloody on one of the sleeves. Shuddering, she looked away — and froze.

Vader stood in front of her, his glowing yellow eyes the only bright thing in the room.

Her muscles locked and her body strained, trying to get away — but she couldn’t, she was strapped in place, she couldn’t move. Her breath came faster and faster as he walked slowly towards her. When he was about two meters away, she froze — partly in terror, and partly because of how he _felt_.

He gave off a chill — not a physical one, but enough to fill you with fear, to let you know to _avoid this man_. His yellow eyes bore into her as he reached out and touched her cheek with his black-gloved right hand.

There were black gloves on both his hands, she noticed. A black cloak and a soul shrouded in darkness.

He leaned in, his fingers still on her cheek, until he was only a breath away. “You’re awake. Padmé,” he said softly. She pulled away as far as she could, which wasn’t far, nearly hyperventilating now. His brows furrowed, and he looked almost upset, opening his mouth as if to say more.

But at that moment, his comlink beeped. Irritation flashed across his face, and he waved a hand towards her as he answered. The room faded into black again and Padmé felt her consciousness slip away as he spoke into his comlink.

“ _This is Lord Vader_ ,” was the last thing she heard before she felt nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm so sorry for the wait. Real Life, anxiety, etc... I'm not abandoning this story, I promise! But I am getting into a series of chapters that are difficult to write for a variety of reasons, and my December is going to be quite busy, so it might be a while before the next update. I'll try my best, but you know.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/darlingargents) or [tumblr](http://darthsoka.tumblr.com/) -- and feel free to talk to me about this story or any of my others! And eternal thanks to my beta Zoe, your encouragement always makes this writing thing so much better :)


	5. Phantom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Improper use of the force but... yeah I don't really care. Also trust me I KNOW how ridiculous and unlikely their plan to find vader is, but I’ve been working on this chapter since goddamn June and at this point I literally cannot make myself care enough to change it to something more logical.
> 
> Another minor note: the whole story is mildly AU because of Vader taking a different role in the galaxy, but this takes place in approximately the middle of Rebels season 1 (before Call to Action, and the destruction of the Lothal control tower)

**4 BBY**

“What do you mean, she’s _missing_?”

Ahsoka flinched, and Obi-Wan didn’t blame her — he’d nearly yelled the words. He forced himself to calm down, at least a little. He, Ahsoka, and Luminara sat around the table in the galley of the _Golden Sea_.

“ _She’s gone_ ,” Bail said. His voice and image were staticky, barely there; he was on Alderaan, or maybe on a rebel base on a backwater planet, and the Sea was on the opposite side of the galaxy. “ _I talked to her, but she cut me off — of her own volition, I should add — and then a few hours later, she was reported as missing from her apartment. Vader is MIA as well_.”

Oh, _kriff_. Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache building in the back of his head. Force, he should have _known_ , he should have protected her.

“Don’t,” said Luminara softly. She was sitting at the holotable with him and Ahsoka; she’d stayed the night on their ship, and Obi-Wan had been grateful. The not knowing had been eating him alive; Luminara’s presence and dry wit had been a welcome distraction.

“What are we going to do?” said Ahsoka. Bail shrugged, his image briefly dissolving into pure static before partially reforming.

“ _I can’t do anything right now. I have senate duties and Mon needs my help running the rebellion_.”

“I understand,” said Obi-Wan. “Thank you for what you’ve done.”

Bail gave a half-salute, smiling — or frowning, it was hard to tell — and said, “ _It’s no problem. Tell Leia and Luke that I wish them well. I’ll call again s—_ ” The call ended, dissolving into static completely and turning off, the room suddenly dim.

Obi-Wan folded his arms on the table and rested his head. A headache was building at his left temple — maybe the Force, maybe just stress and fear. Luminara touched his shoulder, and he raised his head, pressing two fingers to the throbbing pain and willing it to reduce. The pain became more manageable.

“So,” said Ahsoka, “now that Padmé’s been kidnapped, are we going to actually do something?” Her words were sharp, probably sharper than she had intended, and she looked a little ashamed.

“What can we do?” asked Obi-Wan. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Luminara twisted her lips together and glanced in the direction of the door. “I may know someone who can help.” Ahsoka’s expression shifted at her words, but only for a moment; Obi-Wan didn’t dwell on it.

“Then, by all means, contact them,” he said.

“I can’t. I’d have to go in person.”

Obi-Wan locked eyes with her. She stared back, not giving anything away. “Are they worth it?” he asked. Luminara nodded. “Then go.”

She nodded again, and stood. “Contact me when you know where we’re going to find her.” She left, R6 trailing behind her and chirping a goodbye at them. As the door slid shut behind her and the droid, Ahsoka turned to Obi-Wan.

“I also have some contacts who could help. A rebel cell.”

“A cell?”

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan felt Luminara’s freighter detached from the _Sea_ with a dull thud. “They could help us track Padmé down. But we’d have to go meet them in person — all of us.”

“Alright,” said Obi-Wan. “Can you go comm them now?”

She nodded and ducked out of the room, heading down to the room she stayed in whenever she lived on the _Sea_. Not a standard minute later, the door slid open and Luke stumbled in, a robe loosely wrapped around his sleep clothes, hair mussed. Obi-Wan felt a stab of guilt — it was nearly 0500 by the ship’s internal chrono, and none of them had slept, but the kids had gone to bed at the normal time.

“Did Luminara leave?” he asked, yawning. “Why?”

“Sorry,” said Obi-Wan, standing and going over to brew a pot of caf. No one would be sleeping again tonight, he figured; Leia, maybe, would get a full night, but no one else. Leia’s ability to sleep through nearly anything had been a running joke since she was a youngling. “It’s about your mom. We’re going to help her.”

“Are we going to find her?” he asked, bright blue eyes wide as he watched Obi-Wan set up the caf machine.

“I am, Ahsoka is, and apparently we’re getting help from a rebel cell. And Luminara might help with someone else. But you and Leia are not.” The caf machine was set to brew; he turned it on and the heavenly smell of fresh caf began to filter through the room.

“Why not?” Luke asked, sitting down at the table Obi-Wan had just abandoned, wrapping his robe tighter around himself and shivering. The ship’s night setting kept things cool, and after being on Yavin so recently, it had to feel more frigid than it usually did. Obi-Wan would have noticed, but he’d been up for hours, blocking out the cold.

“It has to do with — with Darth Vader,” he said, voice faltering. He opened a pantry. Blast it, they were almost out of bread. He pulled out the package — two pieces left — and put it back with a frustrated sigh. “And Padmé and I would both prefer it if you and Leia stayed safe.”

Luke grumbled in irritation, but didn’t say anything else — he’d never been as comfortable with confrontation as Leia. When the caf was ready, Obi-Wan grabbed a mug for him and Luke and sat down at the table next to his son.

“We’ll get her back, right?” Luke asked as he sipped the burning hot drink.

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, with far more confidence than he felt. “We will.”

* * *

Once Ahsoka got to her room, she dug into the drawers to find her hood. She’d brought it with her when she’d come to stay on the _Sea_ during Padmé’s absence, but she hadn’t expected to need to use the identity of Fulcrum during her stay, so it was shoved in the back of a drawer. When she finally pulled it out, it was a bit dusty; she brushed it off and pulled it over her head before turning on her holotransmitter and turning on the vocal adjustment settings.

She quickly checked the time difference mentally; it was midday on Lothal, and the _Ghost_. She called. After a few moments, Hera Syndulla picked up.

“ _Fulcrum? Why are you calling now?_ ” she asked. “ _I thought you had business that required radio silence for a few weeks_.”

“Things have changed,” said Ahsoka. “I need your help, and the help of your crew. Are you willing and available?”

After a long moment, Hera nodded. “ _What do you need?_ ”

“Are you on Lothal?”

“ _Not at the moment, but we can be there in a few hours_.”

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow.”

“ _In person?_ ” Hera’s brows shot up. “ _I didn’t think we were at that point yet_.”

“Things change, Hera. I’ll be bringing some others. Fulcrum out.” She ended the call and pulled off the hood, placing it on the side of the table. She knew she was taking a massive risk. She’d never told the _Ghost_ about Obi-Wan, or the twins — and she hadn’t told Obi-wan and the others about the two Jedi in Hera’s crew, neither of whom she’d met. It was safer that way, but…

Ahsoka could tell that the galaxy was at a crossroads now. The Force was clear on that. Things would be changing soon, and rapidly. If there was ever a time for the few Jedi alive to meet up, it was now.

She knew she might regret it, but for now, it was a risk she’d have to take.

* * *

The next time Padmé woke, she did not immediately remember where she was. She opened her eyes to see Vader standing directly in front of her, the door behind him framing him perfectly. She was struck by the symmetry for a moment before she remembered where she was. Or, more accurately, she remembered how little she knew about where she was.

The sudden realization hit her like a slap in the face, and she struggled against her restraints, ignoring Vader as best she could. He let out a sigh and waved one hand, causing her restraints to fall off. She jumped away from the machine that had held her, rubbing at her wrists. She refused to look at him; she backed into a table and stood there, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, and stubbornly ignored them, tracing the pattern of the floor tiles with her eyes.

If she let herself pay attention to him, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

“No thank you?” he said after a moment. She didn’t look at him, didn’t respond, and he let out a low laugh. “No, I suppose not. You were always so stubborn.”

His voice held a wistful note that surprised her enough that she actually looked up at him. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken a step towards her. He still stood where he had when she’d woken: hands behind his back, standing with his legs slightly apart. For a moment, a long-ago memory swam to the surface; the Lake House, on Naboo, when he’d been her bodyguard. She’d woken and found him on the balcony, meditating and standing the same way. She thought it was a Jedi habit.

As if noticing her attention, he shifted slightly, and turned suddenly away, beginning to pace. “How did you survive?” he said after a long moment of silence.

Padmé folded her arms over her chest. She was shivering from the cold now, her ankles and wrists practically frozen. “You tried to kill me.”

“Exactly.” He didn’t break pace. “So how did you live?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, mentally weighing the the risks of telling him the truth. If possible, she wanted to avoid letting him know about the twins. “Obi-Wan came and got me medical help,” she said, measuring her words carefully.

One of Vader’s hands balled into a fist. “I choked you,” he said, voice nearly even but with a slight strain that showed the emotion under the surface. “I — I killed you.”

“I got lucky,” she said, bitterly remembering the feeling of relief when she’d realized the extremely unlikely outcome that she’d experienced. “No lasting damage.”

“I _killed_ you,” he said, voice near anguish, and Padmé frowned at him. He’d paused in his pacing, one hand resting on a table. She realized, suddenly, that this was a conference room. A strange place to hold a prisoner, but she put it aside to examine later.

“I was alive when you left,” she said. “Why would you assume that I was dead?”

He glanced at her, his face too deep in shadow for her to see his expression. “The Emperor told me.”

She snorted with laughter despite herself. “You trusted him? After everything?”

He looked away. “And Obi-Wan?” he said, voice even again.

Padmé swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “What about him?”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” The truth, if only technically.

Vader slammed a fist down on the table. The echo that followed made her assume that it was his metal hand, but she wasn’t sure from the angle and the shadows. “Where?”

She flinched back against the table. “I don’t know!” she half-shouted, near panic.

He turned around. “And the child?” he said, voice even again.

“What?” His immediate change of topic had thrown her. And the way he was moving between emotional extremes was more than frightening. He’d always been somewhat emotionally unstable all those years ago when they were married. She’d found it a little worrying at times, but this was downright terrifying.

“You were pregnant when I — when you escaped,” he said, voice flat. “What happened to the child?”

A cold feeling settled in her stomach, fear running through her veins. “They — they died.” She had to hope, to pray, that he hadn’t spoken to the emperor before he’d taken her away.

“Really.” She couldn’t see his face, but could tell, almost instinctively, that he was half-smiling. “And you can’t even say the gender.”

“I—”

He stepped out of the shadows and raised one hand, almost casually. She felt the Force fit itself around her throat, but it didn’t tighten, didn’t lift her — the implicit threat was enough. “Where?”

She looked him in the eyes. “They died.”

Suddenly, her mind was under attack. She dropped to the ground gasping as her thoughts and memories flickered past her mind’s eye. A thousand splinters of a thousand moments, flying through her brain too fast to see for more than a few seconds. She collapsed on her side, trembling, as the assault continued.

_Kissing Anakin on Geonosis for the first time. Their wedding. Aurra Sing’s near murder of her. Cad Bane holding a gun to her head. Rush Clovis falling to his death on Scipio. Telling Anakin of her pregnancy. Obi-Wan telling her that Anakin had turned to the dark side. Seeing Vader as he truly was for the first time as she choked nearly to death._

No, she thought, no, no—

But the memories continued.

_The birth. Holding the twins for the first time. Her own voice saying, “Luke and Leia.” Obi-Wan telling her of Anakin’s fate. Sharing a bed with Obi-Wan on Umbara. Leaving Alderaan with pain and hope warring in her heart. The twin’s first birthday. The twins turning three. The first time she’d kissed Obi-Wan. The second time. The first time she’d slept with him. The twins building their lightsabers. The twins training with Obi-Wan, and Luminara, and Ahsoka. The first time she’d seen Bail’s rebellion._ More and more and more and more and more memories until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

When he finally let her go, she realized she’d been screaming the whole time.

He stood over her now, face white with anger. “So,” he said. “You’ve been busy.”

* * *

They reached the Lothal system several hours later. Leia sat in the cockpit next to Ahsoka, who sat in the pilot’s chair and was guiding them down to the planet below. The fluffy clouds surrounded them as they entered the lower atmosphere. The _Golden Sea_ touched down on a flat prairie of waving grass, and Leia could see another ship across from them, several meters away.

“So who are these rebels?” asked Obi-Wan as the ship powered down.

“I think I should let them introduce themselves,” said Ahsoka, standing. Leia followed her out of the ship, Obi-Wan and Luke close behind.

Outside, it was windy, the tall grass whipping against Leia’s legs. Ahsoka led them across the field to the ship. When they were a few feet away, the ramp lowered down and out came the crew — the rebels.

The first being Leia saw exit the ship was a human teenage girl in Mando armour, her hand just a little too close to the blaster strapped to her hip. Then a tall, furry-skinned purple alien of a species she didn’t recognize, and a teenage boy with — a lightsaber? Her mind ground to a halt for a moment, and then she looked closer. The boy looked about her age with hair so black it was almost blue. And there was a lightsaber hanging off his hip.

Blinking, Leia looked at the other crew members — a tall human man with amber skin, green eyes, and dark brown hair tied back, and a green-skinned Twi’lek woman in a pilot’s uniform. Together, they were an odd group, but they seemed attuned to each other — a crew, a family.

“Fulcrum,” said the pilot — probably the captain, Leia realized — after a tense moment of silence. “Who — who is this?”

Ahsoka glanced back at Obi-Wan, who was staring, face carefully blank, at the human man. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Luke and Leia Naberrie,” Ahsoka said. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”

“Master Kenobi?” said the human man suddenly, stepping forward, staring Obi-Wan. Leia’s father blinked.

“Yes,” he said, hesitantly. “I was.” He glanced back at Ahsoka, but her expression betrayed nothing; Leia assumed he had decided to simply trust her.

“I’m—” The man swallowed visibly. “I was Caleb Dume. Depa Billaba’s—”

“Master Billaba’s padawan,” said Obi-Wan softly. “I can’t—you’re _alive_?”

He nodded, a short, jerky movement. “I—I go by Kanan now. Kanan Jarrus.”

“Well, Kanan,” said Obi-Wan, and he smiled — smiled, a full, happy smile. He didn’t smile like that often anymore. Leia found herself smiling too, caught up in his momentary joy. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

“Kanan?” said the teenage boy, voice inquisitive. “Who are they?”

“I’d like to know, too,” said the purple alien, in a low grumble of a voice.

Kanan turned back to his crew. “This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Legend of the Clone Wars. He taught me when I was a youngling.”

Some sort of recognition passed over the boy’s face, and he looked back at Obi-Wan.

“Should we go inside?” asked the pilot. “Make our introductions?”

“Yes,” said Ahsoka. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Once they got inside and all got settled in the galley, the Twi’lek woman — Captain Hera Syndulla — made the introductions. The boy was Ezra Bridger, Kanan’s padawan. The teenage Mando girl was Sabine Wren, and once she took off her helmet, Leia was struck by her brightly dyed, blue-and-amber hair. The furry purple alien — he was Lasat, she’d learned — was Garazeb Orrelios, or just Zeb. They were a rebel cell operating out of Lothal, a small Outer Rim planet that Leia had never heard of before.

After the introductions, Obi-Wan explained the situation. Leia, who was squished between him on her right and Luke on her left at the small table, listened silently until he finished recounting everything they knew about the situation.

When he was done, there was a short silence before Captain Syndulla spoke. “What do you think we can do, Master Kenobi?” Her eyes darted to Ahsoka. “And Fulcrum — Ahsoka, I’m not entirely sure why you thought it necessary for us to meet. I’m not sure the potential benefit outweighs the risk.”

“I understand your concern, Hera,” said Ahsoka. “But I believe that if we can locate Darth Vader, we will locate Padmé as well. And it might be a good idea for the few remaining Jedi to unite to save her — and possibly stop Darth Vader in the process.”

Obi-Wan flinched, but only barely; if Leia hadn’t been pressed up beside him, she wouldn’t have noticed. She mentally sent him soft, warm thoughts through the Force, and could feel his appreciation a moment later.

Hera nodded slowly as Kanan spoke. “If you think we can stop Darth Vader, that’s obviously a good idea, but how are we supposed to find him? He has the whole galaxy — he could be anywhere.”

“That’s why I thought you could help,” said Ahsoka. “Obi-Wan?”

He nodded. “Yes. I believe that if we can break into the Imperial holonet system, we’ll be able to find records of Vader’s personal ship. Wherever it stopped last is Padmé’s likely location.”

Captain Syndulla and Kanan both looked contemplative, but then Zeb spoke. “No offence, Master Jedi, but Senator Amidala’s disappearance is being reported all over the Core. Someone else must have thought of this already. And I don’t think Vader would leave records of where he took the Senator.”

Leia had thought of this, and she spoke up before anyone else did. “Vader’s not tied to her disappearance. Everyone in the Empire is scared of him, and while they may have reason to suspect his involvement, going after him would be suicide for an average Imperial. And he knows that — he knows what he can get away with. This isn’t even close to the worst thing he’s done under official Imperial jurisdiction.”

“What about the Emperor?” asked Sabine. “From what I’ve heard, Vader is his personal attack dog when he’s not slaughtering younglings—” Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both flinched at that, far more obviously than Obi-Wan had before, and Sabine faltered before continuing, “—or whatever he does with his free time.”

“He’s probably going to see how this plays out,” said Obi-Wan after a moment. “He has no reason to stop Vader, at least not immediately.”

There was silence for a moment, and Leia could tell that the gears were turning in the rebels’ heads — that they were considering that this might be possible after all.

“So what do we need to do?” asked Captain Syndulla after a long moment. Leia could feel Obi-Wan’s smile in the Force, lighting up like a bright sunrise.

* * *

The adults had dispersed, off to make plans, with their attack on the local Imperial centre hesitantly planned for the next evening. Ezra was left alone with the Naberrie twins — and Sabine, but she was painting something in the corner and didn’t seem interested in conversation.

He leaned back against the table, studying them. “So, you’re Jedi?”

Leia shrugged. Luke spoke hesitantly. “Yeah,” He said, glancing at his sister with an expression Ezra couldn’t read before looking back to him and continuing. “Jedi padawans. Apprentices, I mean. We’re - well, we’re still in training.”

“Cool.” Ezra looked down and studying his shoes. “I’m, uh, Kanan’s padawan. I guess. I didn’t know that it was called that.”

“Are you trained?” asked Leia with genuine interest, and Ezra looked back up.

“Uh, not really.” He felt his gaze slide back to Luke before he quickly looked away. “Kanan teaches me what he can, but he was only an apprentice when his master was killed, so he doesn’t know much.” That seemed harsh, and maybe too much to tell a stranger, so he tried to rectify it. “I mean, he’s a good teacher. He does know a fair amount.”

“Maybe you could get our dad to teach you,” said Luke, and Ezra couldn’t help but glance again hesitantly at the other boy. “Or Ahsoka,” Luke continued.

There was something about Luke’s face that was distracting. “That’s probably a good idea,” Ezra said, though he was too distracted to decide whether or not it really was. He was trying hard not to stare at Luke’s lips.

“Or Luminara,” added Leia. “She’s a great teacher.”

“Luminara?”

“Master Unduli,” Luke said helpfully. “She’s another Jedi, and our dad’s friend.”

“Why isn’t she here?” asked Ezra.

“She’s getting more help for - for the mission,” Luke said. He seemed nervous. Why would he be? It couldn’t be that it was Ezra who was making him nervous. He was probably just a nervous person in general.

“Huh.” Ezra said, leaning back against the wall. He fought the blush that he felt creeping across his face, trying to look casual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leia half-grin and turn to Sabine.

“You’re an artist?” Leia asked her.

Sabine looked up from her art — a painting on the back of someone’s datapad. Probably Zeb’s. It was upside down from where Ezra was, but he thought it looked like a stylized Rebellion symbol. “What? Oh — yes, I am.” She lifted the painting in her hands as if to show the evidence of her statement.

“Can I see some of your work, while we’re waiting?” Leia asked, practically batting her eyelashes, and Ezra suddenly realized what she was doing. His stomach dropped.

Sabine glanced back at him and then at Luke, and she grinned, an almost manic and possibly evil look in her eyes. _Kriff_. He’d never wanted a sister as a kid, and now that he had one, he knew his young self had been completely correct in his apprehension.

“Sure.” Sabine said. She left, Leia trailing behind, and Luke and Ezra were alone.

Luke watched them go with an odd expression. “Why did they—”

“Do you want to spar?” asked Ezra before he could lose his nerve. Luke blinked at him, eyes wide and a bright blue enough to drown in. Oh, kriff, this was really bad. He was already regretting asking.

“If you want a real competitor, Leia’s better than I am—”

“I’m not that good,” Ezra said, quickly. “Come on, just for fun.”

Luke glanced at the door where Leia and Sabine had exited, and then back at Ezra. He shrugged. “Sure.”

* * *

“Which of them is more oblivious, you think?” asked Leia under her breath as she peered down into the cargo hold that had been converted to a training room. Ezra and Luke slashed their sabers through the air, an artful dance that she would have barely been able to see if not for her Force sensitivity.

Sabine shrugged. “Your brother? Ezra is an idiot, sometimes, but I think he knows what he feels. Even if he represses it.”

“Fair enough.” Leia turned away and leaned against the railing, the cold metal pressing into her lower back. The air was punctuated by the hisses and sparking noises of Ezra and Luke’s lightsabers. She and Sabine were fairly close to them, but she was almost certain that the noises of fighting — and the trance-like state often brought about by a difficult spar and excessive use of the Force — was enough that their conversation would go unheard. “D’ya think anything will happen between them?”

“Hmm.” Sabine caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and glanced back at the sparring match before turning around and resting against the railing next to Leia. “I’d bet you five credits that it won’t… before the end of this mission, whatever it is. After that, I really don’t know.”

Leia grinned. “Deal.” She glanced back down at them again. Luke wasn’t as good with a lightsaber as she was, but Ezra clearly knew hardly anything about duelling; Luke had pinned him in the corner. Her grin widened. “I just hope we’re in the room where it happens.”

* * *

“It’s a pretty simple plan,” said Hera once the whole team had gathered back in the galley a little while later. Ahsoka noticed that Luke and Ezra both seemed tired, a bit sweaty, and — bruised? She made a mental note to ask Luke about it later. “We’re going to break into the Lothal control tower.”

“Simple.” Sabine raised a brow. “Right.”

Hera pressed a few keys in the holotable and a map sprung into the air as the lights dimmed. “We’ll split into three teams. The first team — Master Kenobi, Kanan, Luke, and Leia — will break into the tower. The second team — Ezra, Ahsoka, Sabine, and Zeb — will cause a distraction outside and keep the stormtroopers busy. Chopper and I will be the third team, and we’ll be waiting to retrieve the other teams when the time comes.”

“Who will break into the Imperial system?” asked Leia. Chopper warbled a response and rolled towards her.

“Like Chopper said, you’ll use this spike to get inside the system and download all information related to Darth Vader onto a datacube. It should take about five minutes.”

“What if we don’t have five minutes?” asked Leia.

Hera closed the map, and the room darkened substantially as the holotable powered down. “You will. Sabine is good at distractions.”

“Can I use an explosion?” Sabine asked, grinning.

“Sure.”

“More than one?”

“If necessary.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t take that as permission to blow up the building, Sabine. All right, everyone.” Hera stood. “We should all get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll learn the details of our parts of the plan.”

The group dispersed, and Obi-Wan gathered Luke and Leia to head back to the Sea. Ahsoka trailed behind, but was stopped by Hera’s hand on her shoulder before she could leave the galley.

“I know why we’re doing this,” said Hera quietly when the others were out of earshot. “It’s noble. I understand. But we’re almost out of fuel, and we need some credits to put food on the table.”

“I understand,” said Ahsoka. “But this is important.”

“It is. But we’ll need some credits, and soon.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Ahsoka. “I have an idea.”

Hera moved her hand off Ahsoka’s shoulder and looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you once I’m sure it’ll work” said Ahsoka, and she left the galley to follow Obi-Wan and the twins.

Back in the _Sea_ , Obi-Wan began brewing tea as Ahsoka sat down next to the twins. She nudged Luke with her arm. “What were you doing with Ezra?”

Luke jumped, and glanced up at her, wide-eyed. “Uh — nothing. Sparring.”

“Right,” Ahsoka said. She saw Leia grinning out of the corner of her eye, and fought to hide a smile. “Was he any good?”

“He was — he was okay.” Luke cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Of course,” said Leia. “I’m sure he’s _more_ than okay.”

Luke’s face burned. “It’s not — kriff off, Leia.”

“Language,” said Obi-Wan from the kitchen with no real threat or energy in his voice.

Leia snickered. “Sure.” She stood. “I’m going to bed.” She left, and Ahsoka hid her smile as Obi-Wan carried three mugs of tea to the table with the Force. She grabbed her cup out of the air and took a long drink.

Obi-Wan sat down next to Luke and took a drink of his own tea. “So,” he said. “What’s Ezra like?”

Luke’s face got even redder, if that was possible, and Ahsoka laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Zoe for betaing. I was really insecure about this chapter, especially after such a long wait (changing schools and a whole bunch of personal stuff, mostly, I'm still very sorry) and your comments helped immensely <3
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://luminera.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/lumineras) :)


	6. Here Be Dragons

Vader hadn’t been back in hours and Padmé was somewhere between worried and terrified. Vader had stormed out, cloak swirling around him like a storm cloud, and once the door had slammed shut with what was probably the Force, nothing more had happened. No one had brought her food, either, and her stomach was cramping painfully from hunger, though at least she wasn’t dehydrated. The tiny refresher in the corner provided her with water.

In the last fifteen years, she’d gone hungry before. Credits had been tight, more so after the twins came back from their period of absence, and she’d often gone a day or two without more than a few bites of food between supply runs. This wasn’t the worst hunger she’d experienced — not even close — but it _felt_ worse, because she didn’t have any way of getting more food, no matter how desperate she got. She had no way of controlling anything about her situation, and it was terrifying.

She was sitting in the corner of the room, curling up to stop the painful bursts of pain that wracked her body on and off, when the door slid open and Vader came back in.

She was on her feet immediately, trying and failing to look imposing in her tattered nightgown and bare feet. Vader just looked at her, impassive, his face as blank as if he were wearing a mask. A plate of food floated through the air to stop directly in front of her.

“Eat,” he said.

Padmé didn’t move, didn’t unclasp her hands from behind her back. She was trembling, she realized, just a little — but Vader noticed. Of course he did. He rolled his eyes, the first emotion he’d shown since he came in, and floated the plate a little closer to her.

“It’s not poisoned. Just eat it.”

Padmé looked down at the plate, trying to ignore her watering mouth. It was a simple meal — bread and meat with some sort of sauce, a meal you could find for cheap at any small diner from the Outer Rim to the Inner Core — and it was _warm_ , too, steam rising into the air. She didn’t want to take the risk of poison, but Vader had more efficient ways of killing her. And she needed food. Hesitantly, Padmé picked up a small piece of bread with a little sauce on it, and took a bite.

It wasn’t delicious, not by any standard, but it was warm and it was food, and she couldn’t stop herself from eating the whole piece of bread at once. Her stomach cramped again, just a little, but she knew it was only because her body desperately wanted to eat all the food in front of her and possibly lick the plate.

She didn’t lick the plate, but she came close as she ate the meal as quickly as was physically possible. It couldn’t have been more than five standard minutes before the plate was clean. Padmé set down the fork on the tray, trying and failing to stop her hand from shaking.

Vader hadn’t moved, the whole time she was eating, and when she was finished, he floated the plate to place it on the long table that ran most of the length of the room. Padmé realized, with a surge of a feeling she wasn’t sure how to identify, that Vader had held the plate in place the whole time with the Force. He hadn’t said a word. Vader, the murderer, the Sith…

Vader, who had been her husband so long ago.

Padmé sat down on one of the chairs, but only because she knew that her knees wouldn’t be able to hold her. The small act of kindness — of holding her plate up — was inconsequential, but it also made no sense. It should have been impossible for a Sith lord to care, to do something like that. But he had, and…

And she didn’t know what it meant.

“Padmé?” he said, and his voice was almost… almost hesitant? Padmé stiffened. “Are you alright?”

She glared at him, forcing down the barrage of emotions that was pounding in her brain. “How could I be all right? I was kidnapped and starved and — and I don’t know why you’re pretending to care.”

“I’m…” He seemed almost at a loss for words. “I didn’t mean to starve you. I forgot. Sith lords need… less food, our bodies are sustained mostly by Force energy—”

“Stop,” said Padmé, and she pressed her thumb into the middle of her forehead, rubbing at a spot of pain that was blossoming there. She couldn’t listen to this — because he didn’t sound like Vader, like the monster she knew he was.

He sounded like Anakin. And Anakin was dead and gone, buried in the ash of Mustafar.

_Mustafar…_

She felt herself tense from the thought, and hoped that Vader hadn’t noticed — but of course he had, of course he would, and he moved closer to her. She tried to ignore him as she frantically tried to remember what she knew about the volcanic planet.

Mining, mostly. Sustained only by technology — barely livable for most sentients otherwise. And hot, from all the lava. Exactly the sort of place that would have air coolers on all the time. And now that she thought about it, she noticed an almost industrial look to the room she was in — it seemed like a business area for a mine, if her hunch was correct. And there seemed to almost be a thin layer of volcanic ash instead of dust, in some places, but maybe she was going a little far.

She knew what planet she was on. It wasn’t much to plan her escape with, but it would have to be enough.

“Padmé,” he said again, and she looked up at him, trying to ignore the emotion in his voice. “I… was wrong, earlier.”

“Just _stop_ ,” she said, her mind racing ahead. Considering. She knew she had to escape, but how? And where would she go? She needed time to think about it — time alone. “Just leave. You’re… you’re a monster.”

He didn’t flinch, or even react in the slightest. Padmé suspected that he had been called worse, probably to his face, probably many times. She wondered how many of those who’d insulted him had survived to see the next day.

“I am a Sith.”

“You weren’t always a Sith.” She looked away from him, feeling her throat tightening, and — no. No, she had to let go. _Anakin Skywalker is dead, Anakin Skywalker was a good man, Anakin Skywalker will never come back. This man is not your husband._

“I was a Jedi. We hurt others, too.”

He sat down — and _Force_ , Padmé was shaking. It was becoming harder and harder to differentiate this man from her husband when she was looking into his eyes and remembering the war, remembering their wedding day. And Lord Vader didn’t sit down and have civil discussions. He didn’t. He negotiated with the Force and his blood-red lightsaber, with terror and slaughter. This wasn’t something Vader would do — ever.

And the strange chill he’d been giving off earlier was gone, along with his yellow eyes. She knew Sith didn’t always have yellow eyes — not all the time — but it was still disconcerting. She forced herself back to her task: getting him to leave. She could evaluate all of this later.

“You didn’t. Jedi don’t murder innocents.”

“I don’t murder innocents.”

“Don’t _lie_ to me,” she said, and her voice broke. “Bail — Bail told me what he saw, that day at the Temple. Brainwashed clones murdered a padawan — a child — gunned him down and killed him. You were there. You allowed that to happen.”

A hint of something passed over his face, too quickly for Padmé to recognize it. “I am not the monster you think me to be.”

And something — something in his words spurred her into action. A flare of anger spiked in her chest, and fury ran through her blood, and she didn’t _think_ — she just moved, and her fist collided with his cheek.

Pain shot through her arm as she stumbled away from the table. She’d held her fist correctly — Obi-Wan hadn’t trained her much in the fighting arts, but she knew enough to not break her thumb in a punch — but it had kriffing _hurt_.

A bruise was blossoming on Vader’s cheek, and he held one hand to it. He just looking at Padmé, slowly lowering his hand. Her breath caught in her throat, and she waited — waited for him to snap her neck, or choke her, or throw her into a wall so hard that her bones turned to dust.

Because she’d punched a Dark Lord of the Sith in the face. And no one survived that.

He stood, slowly, and Padmé moved as far back as she could. She collided with the wall and stood there, trembling. She wasn’t afraid of death, but she didn’t want to die. Not yet. There was still so much more to do.

She stared at Vader, waiting for him to strike. But instead he turned away from her and left, the plate following him like an afterthought before the metal door slammed shut.

Padmé slowly slid down the wall and onto the floor.

She was alive.

And she had no idea how or why.

* * *

The _Ghost_ flew low over the clouds on Lothal, lit only by the moons. The spike, prepared by Chopper and Sabine, was tucked into Leia’s jacket. She touched it once as the ship swooped towards the complex.

“Almost in the drop zone,” said Hera’s voice over their comlinks. “Team one, be ready.”

Leia moved forward with Obi-Wan, Kanan, and Luke. The door of the ship opened beneath them, and cold wind hit her hard in the face. Tucking her head, she moved down the ramp with the rest of the team.

Obi-Wan spoke, his voice transmitting to the others. “Three… two… one.”

They jumped silently into the night.

The wind howled in Leia’s ears as they fell through the air. The ground rushed up beneath them, and Leia used the Force to slow their landing. She rolled as she hit the ground next to the outer wall, one hand over the spike to make sure it didn’t break. Obi-Wan had a backup, but it still wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Are we all here?” asked Obi-Wan quietly, and sensing the answer — they’d all landed safely — he nodded, barely visible in the dark. They were against the walls of the complex, just outside of the area lit by the floodlights around the Imperial Complex. “Good.” He gestured to Kanan, who signalled for them to follow him.

They moved silently around the complex walls to the entrance gate, where they crouched in the shadows silently, waiting. Leia knelt in the cold dirt and rubbed her hands together as a few standard minutes crawled by.

“Just a few more seconds,” whispered Kanan, and as the words left his mouth, there was an explosion that shook the ground beneath them. One of the stormtroopers at the entrance stumbled and almost fell as brightly coloured smoke poured into the air.

“What was that?” said one of the troopers.

The stormtroopers opened the gate and went inside the complex to investigate -- honestly, who was training these soldiers, Leia really hadn’t thought this part of the plan would work so well -- and once they were almost out of sight and the gate began to close, their group slipped inside.

From there, it was a flat-out sprint to a side entrance in the complex. Kanan and Luke watched as Obi-Wan and Leia got the door open, and then they were in.

There was an alarm blaring in the distance and the complex seemed mostly empty as they made their way through the halls. Leia’s hand was on her lightsaber, but she didn’t take it out or ignite it; that was a last resort.

The computer room was cramped with all of them in it. Obi-Wan and Kanan both took a door to watch, and Luke stood by Leia’s side as she inserted the spike and plugged in the datacube. The display lit up and a percentage bar popped up on the screen. _1%, 2%, 3%_ …

By the door, Obi-Wan glanced back at them. “No sign of any troopers. Looks like Sabine’s distraction is working.”

Though his face was turned away, Leia could see Kanan smiling proudly as he kept watch.

* * *

The area around the complex was a mass of colour.

Sabine had made dozens of colourful smoke bombs and handed out a few to each member of the “distraction” team. The first explosion she’d set off had sent plumes of bright red and orange smoke into the air, and that, combined with the smaller smoke bombs, made the outside of the complex currently resemble a sea of rainbow colours.

Ezra ducked and darted through the smoke, tossing bombs here and there, using the Force to guide him. He wasn’t very precise with it yet, but he felt like he was improving. Especially in the presence of a Jedi master. He’d never thought he’d actually meet one in person, and it had been almost better than he’d expected. If he survived the night — or the rest of this mission, which seemed likely to get more dangerous soon — he hoped to learn as much as he could from Master Kenobi, or this Master Luminara that they’d been talking about.

A few red blaster bolts flew through the air, one almost hitting Ezra before sizzling against the side of the complex. Ezra swore under his breath as the shape of a buckethead emerged from the smoke. He tossed another bomb at the trooper before sprinting away. The trooper’s yells faded into the distance.

He checked his belt. Two smoke bombs left. It would have to be enough.

A shape emerged from the smoke, and he almost ran into it before skidding to a stop. Sabine stood in front of him, holding a rapidly ticking smoke bomb; she threw it in the direction of some blasterfire and grabbed Ezra by the arm.

“We should stay close,” she said. They were near enough to each other to not need the comms in their ears. “We need to get out soon.”

Ezra nodded, and followed her through the smoke.

* * *

_47%, 48%, 49%, 50%_ …

“Halfway there,” Leia whispered to Luke, Obi-Wan, and Kanan. They hadn’t been there for long and it had all been quiet, but she was nervous; something was going to go wrong, she just knew it. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, glancing between the screen and the door. _Come on, come on…_

“We’ve got company,” said Kanan suddenly, and pulled out his saber.

Obi-Wan pulled out his own and joined Kanan by the door. “Protect the data!” he called over his shoulder as he followed Kanan into the hall. The sounds of blasterfire and sparking lightsabers split the air and Leia flinched as Luke pulled out his lightsaber.

“We’ll be fine,” he said over his shoulder as they both watched the door. The only part of the fight they could see was flashes of light and grunts of pain. Luke glanced back at Leia. “How much?”

She looked at the screen. “68%”

Luke nodded. A body thudded against the ground outside the door, and they both flinched. But a moment later, Kanan and Obi-Wan came back into the room, both looking as though the fight had been a simple annoyance.

“Are we close?” asked Obi-Wan, and Leia nodded, too wired to speak.

_73%, 74%, 75%_ …

* * *

The distraction team had gathered near the door where the extraction team would exit with the data. The smoke was too thick to see through now, and most of the stormtroopers were hopelessly confused; Sabine honestly had to wonder how they’d managed to become “elite soldiers” with such a poor sense of direction.

“Are you guys almost done?” asked Ahsoka over the comm.

They all heard the answer. “ _Close_ ,” said Obi-Wan. “ _Less than a minute_.” Ahsoka nodded to herself and turned, her lightsaber in defensive position. Ezra mirrored her position. Sabine hesitantly raised her blasters; she was pretty certain that there wasn’t an immediate threat, but well, she wasn’t a Jedi.

A few blaster bolts came out of nowhere, and Ahsoka deflected them easily. Sabine fired back, and there was a dull thud as a body hit the ground. A twinge of guilt rose in her mind; Sabine pushed it down.

“ _Done_ ,” said Leia’s voice over the comms. “ _We’ll be out in just a sec—oh, kriff,_ Luke—” Her voice abruptly cut out into white noise.

“Leia?” Ahsoka’s voice was near panic. “Leia, come in!” There was nothing but radio silence.

And the sound of blasterfire, deep inside the complex.

Ahsoka swore, loudly and in several languages, before throwing the door open and running inside, with a shout of “keep out the other bucketheads!” thrown over her shoulder as Ezra followed her. Sabine adjusted her grip, and fired into the smoke.

* * *

_98%, 99%, 100%_.

“It’s finished,” Obi-Wan said, and pulled the datacube away from the computer with the Force. He tucked it inside his jacket and left the room, the rest of the group following as he walked quickly through the complex, almost at a run.

“Done!” said Leia over the comms as they turned a corner. “We’ll be out in just a sec—”

She stopped in her tracks as she noticed a massive group of stormtroopers directly in front of them, blasters primed and aimed at their heads. “Oh, kriff — _Luke_!”

Luke had, of course, done something stupidly noble and brave, and ran straight at the troopers with his lightsaber out. The corridor filled with blasterfire, forcing Leia, Kanan, and Obi-Wan to pull out their own sabers and deflect what they could. Luke cut down half a dozen troopers on his own before a bolt hit him in the arm and he fell with a shout of pain.

Leia screamed, the firefight forgotten, and dove down and low towards her brother. His face was twisted in pain, and he clutched his arm with white-knuckled fingers. A bolt came so close it singed her hair, and a moment later, Obi-Wan deflected a bolt directly into that trooper’s chest.

Leia looked up, sensing two Force-sensitives approaching, and saw Ahsoka and Ezra charging in, sabers ignited. They cut down a dozen troopers before they even realized more enemies had arrived, and with Obi-Wan and Kanan, they took down the rest of the squadron.

Leia was barely paying attention, though, because Luke was hurt and she could feel his pain through the Force. It wasn’t deadly — not even close — but Leia’s heart was hammering in her chest and she was shaking as she held onto Luke’s jacket as if she were drowning and it was keeping her afloat.

“Leia,” said a soft voice, and Leia looked up to see Obi-Wan kneeling beside her. “We have to go.”

Leia nodded and stood as Obi-Wan helped Luke to his feet. Ezra was suddenly beside him, and slipped an arm around Luke to hold him up as their group made its way towards the exit.

Outside, the air was sudden and cold against Leia’s skin. The smoke wasn’t going anywhere just yet, and they just barely managed to make their way through it undetected. At the gate, Sabine tossed a regular bomb at the guard tower to blow up the controls so that the gate would slide open without alarms. Outside the complex, they gathered in the shadows and waited.

A long, long moment later, the _Ghost_ swooped down and through the air towards them, and they loaded onto it quickly. As they rose and the door of the ship closed behind them, Leia looked down at the complex, surrounded by rainbow-coloured smoke. From the sky, it looked almost beautiful.

* * *

Luke’s arm wasn’t seriously damaged, but Obi-Wan was still upset. Thinking about how close the bolt had come to killing Luke was terrifying, and he wasn’t sure he could stand to see another stormtrooper anytime soon. He wasn’t sure he could be responsible for his actions.

“I’m fine, really,” said Luke as Ahsoka carefully applied a bacta bandage to his injury. After everyone had been confirmed to be on the ship and mostly unhurt, all the attention had gone onto Luke — the only person who had been injured. He sat at the table, Ahsoka tending his wound, Obi-Wan on his other side, Leia close by, and most of the team surrounding the table. “You can all go… really.”

“You’re a hero, Luke,” said Ahsoka, only a hint of amusement in her voice. “You got injured fighting the Empire.”

“Good for you.” Leia said, smiling, though it did little to hide the concern in her eyes. Obi-Wan was always struck by the strength of their bond; nothing, he thought, could come close to tearing it apart. They were truly twins — halves of a whole.

“You’ll need to wear a sling for a few hours,” said Ahsoka as she rolled his sleeve back over the bandage and pulled out a sling from the medkit, “but you’re good to go, otherwise. Could have been worse than temporary nerve damage.” She helped him put on the sling and then stood, gesturing for Obi-Wan to follow her. They both left, and Ezra and Leia took the spots where they had been sitting.

Alone in the hallway, Obi-Wan leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Force, he was so _tired_ , his eyes sore and his body run down. He hadn’t slept much since Padmé’s disappearance.

“Are you okay?” asked Ahsoka after a moment. He nodded slowly.

“I’m fine.” He pulled the datacube out of his jacket and handed it to her. “Can you look for our information?”

“Sure. But you should come help.”

He blinked at her. “I’m sure you can do it alone—”

“And Luke doesn’t need you right now. Let him feel like a hero for a minute before you smother him, Obi-Wan. And, anyway, I’d like to have some company.” Ahsoka half-grinned at him, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile back.

“Alright.”

They plugged the cube into a data port in the cargo hold, and Ahsoka began flicking through files on the popup screen. They’d done a search for all data from the last standard week containing any reference to Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, Vader’s operating number, Vader’s ship, or the 501st.

“I’ll look at ship logs first?” Ahsoka asked, and Obi-Wan nodded as she clicked through. There were half a dozen stops the day before Padmé’s abduction, and then one in the earliest hours of the standard day on the day she was taken. Ahsoka clicked on that file, and it grew in size on the screen.

“Coruscant to… Mustafar,” said Obi-Wan, and he closed his eyes. Of course — of course he would take her there. Where else? It would end where it had started, on that planet of fire and blood.

“That seemed a little too easy,” said Ahsoka quietly, and Obi-Wan shrugged.

“We have what we need now.”

“I suppose we do.”

* * *

Leia pressed her finger against the edge of Luke’s bandage, with just enough force for him to feel it. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

Luke shook his head. “No.” The bacta had numbed it — his whole arm just felt cold and senseless.

“Hmm.” She glanced at Ezra, who hadn’t said a word since he’d sat down on Luke’s other side. “Want to kiss it better, Ezra?”

Ezra’s face reddened, and Luke was pretty sure his did, too. “ _Leia_!” he hissed, and she snickered, standing.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, and went over to where Sabine was standing. Luke couldn’t hear their short exchange, but a moment later, they both left, the door sliding shut behind them. They weren’t the only ones to leave — Kanan and Hera had slipped out soon after Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, and Zeb had left sometime before Leia and Sabine had. They were alone.

Ezra looked back at Luke, still looking a little embarrassed. “Um. Are you… are you okay?”

“Fine,” said Luke. Again. “Really. It’s just a minor injury—”

“You were shot,” Ezra pointed out, and Luke rolled his eyes before he could stop himself.

“I know. But really, I’m going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about me like everyone else is.”

“Oh.” Ezra shifted, seeming almost uncomfortable. “Okay. Uh… are you worried about the mission?”

Luke felt a sudden surge of gratitude — _finally_ , someone was willing to talk about something other than his injury. “A little. I mean, it’s my mom. I want her to be safe. But if anyone can save her, my dad can.”

“Right.” Ezra studiously examined his own knees. “Have you seen him… work? I mean, as a Jedi.”

Luke considered that. Obi-Wan had always had to keep his identity secret, but he’d never hid it around Luke or the other members of their family. Everything he did was what a Jedi would do — at least, it was to Luke’s eyes. “Sometimes. But it’s not really something you turn on and off. He’s always a Jedi.”

“Huh. Kanan isn’t really like that.”

“What do you mean?” Luke leaned in a little, forgetting Leia’s words for a moment — until he was closer to Ezra. He forced himself not to blush, or let his thoughts spill into the Force. Luckily, Ezrawas contemplative, seeming to be more focused on Luke’s question than his proximity. He looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“Well… I don’t know a lot about his past, but I know that he was a padawan when the Jedi were killed. He’s always had to hide what he is, ever since he was younger than me or you. So whenever he’s acting as a Jedi, he’s kind of like a different person.”

Huh. Luke had never really considered something like that. “So he’s only really a Jedi in combat?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Luke snorted with laughter, and leaned back a little in his seat. The bacta seemed to be wearing off the bandage now — his arm was starting to feel a little sore, though the nerve damage from the blaster bolt helped a little to keep it from becoming truly painful. “My dad — I mean, Obi-Wan — would say that that goes against what it means to be a Jedi.”

“You mean the Jedi Code?” asked Ezra. Luke nodded, and Ezra looked away, biting his lip a little. “What… what _is_ the Code, exactly? Kanan mentions it a lot, but he never really… elaborates on it.”

“You don’t know it?”

Ezra went a little red. “I mean, it’s not really—”

“Sorry,” said Luke hastily — he hadn’t meant to imply anything. “I guess it’s just weird for me to think that there’s a Jedi padawan who doesn’t know the Code. It’s just a — a mantra, I guess, for Jedi to live by. Dad doesn’t follow it as much anymore, and he’s said that not all of it is still relevant, but — yeah.” Luke closed his eyes and leaned back, casting his memory back a little bit for the exact words.

_“There is no emotion, there is peace._

_“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_“There is no passion, there is serenity._

_“There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_“There is no death, there is the Force.”_

“Huh,” said Ezra after a moment. “I didn’t… I don’t know what I expected.”

Luke shrugged, and they fell into silence. It wasn’t quite awkward, but there was a little bit of tension in the air. After almost a standard minute, Luke opened his mouth, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say.

But before he could speak, the door slid open and Ahsoka leaned in. “Luke? Obi-Wan, Leia and I are going back to our ship now. You ready?”

Luke nodded, biting back a vague feeling of disappointment, and stood. He stumbled a little as he took a step, pain shooting through his arm as he rested it against to wall to hold himself up, and then Ezra was there, one arm carefully wrapped around his waist. “Thanks,” Luke managed to say, breath short with pain — and Ezra’s closeness to him. He wasn’t exactly sure why.

A moment later, Ahsoka’s arm was around him instead, and she gave Ezra a friendly smile. “Thanks. See you tomorrow?” she said, and Ezra nodded.

“Night, Luke,” Ezra said.

“Night,” replied Luke, and he made his way to the door with Ahsoka. Once the door shut, he extricated himself from her grip and put his good hand against the wall to hold himself up.

He wasn’t exactly certain, but Luke was pretty sure that he heard a faint thud — as if someone had hit their head against a metal wall — and a whispered “ _Karabast_!” from the room he’d just left. He ignored it — and the flush in his cheeks.

* * *

Padmé had been alone for more than one standard day, and as time passed, she felt her resolve and strength waning and giving way to panic. She hadn’t let herself show it, yet — she’d figured out where the cameras were very early into her imprisonment — but she was feeling it, the panic clawing its way through her stomach and chest. Words repeated themselves, bouncing through her head — _you’ll never escape. He’ll kill you. No one will find you — no one is even looking. After you die, he’ll hunt them down — your children, your lover, your friends. It’s over. No one survives attacking Lord Vader for longer than a few hours, and you got very, very lucky to have this long. Just give up._ Padmé was not naturally inclined towards panic, but in this case, it was all she could really feel.

Panic, though, might be a good thing. It gave her incentive to act, to make plans. And she’d figured out a possible escape plan.

It helped, certainly, that her room wasn’t a cell. It wasn’t designed to hold someone in. And that meant that the air vent system would probably be accessible for maintenance.

She knew she’d have to be fast. So she’d done circuits of the room several hours before, not spending more than a few seconds examining the air vent. She’d then retreated to the corner where she’d decided to stay and contemplate how to get the vent open. If she were a Jedi, she could pull it out without breaking a sweat or laying a finger on it, but she wasn’t a Jedi, so she had to consider how long it would take her. Luckily, it seemed to be a bit out of date — old, along with a fair amount of this complex. The screws were small, and not made of especially durable meta — if enough pressure was applied, they would break.

And this room wasn’t made to hold prisoners.

So Padmé waited until her meal was delivered. She ate it — she needed food anyway, and it wasn’t bad for where it came from — and then placed the plate on the ground, hidden from the cameras by the table that filled most of the room. Then she tried to break it.

Her bare feet made her task difficult, as did the material the plate was made of — plasteel. But she hit it, slamming it into the ground over and over with her body weight, until a crack appeared on the edge. Hiding a smile, she kept hitting it against the ground until it snapped solidly in half.

Padmé picked up the pieces, and tested their strength against the ground. Not perfect, but she didn’t exactly have any other options.

So this was it. She did a brief mental scan to confirm she had everything she needed — she didn’t have much at all, so that list was basically the clothes on her back and nothing else — and then stood, the pieces of the broken plate in her hands.

She ran to the vent, and shoved a jagged edge of the plate into the crack where the air vent cover met the wall. It was small, but she forced it in without too much effort. She repeated the process with the other broken piece of plate, on the same side, and then pulled, with all her strength.

All of the training she’d ever done came down to this moment. She pulled, and pulled, and when she felt the metal beginning to give, she could have wept with relief. She kept pulling until a screech of metal came from the wall, and there was a gap on one side, big enough for her to fit through.

Padmé dropped the pieces of the plate onto the ground, realizing that she’d cut open her palms while she had been pulling. In her adrenaline, she hadn’t felt the pain. She ignored it now, and pulled herself up and into the vent as a distant alarm began to sound.

She had a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my beta Zoe, this chapter was a bit trickier than most of the others and I am eternally grateful for your help <3
> 
> I've basically given up on an update schedule. I'm really sorry. But I can promise this _will_ get finished. I write a few chapters ahead and I just finished the chapter that I actually got stuck on, so hopefully the rest will follow... quicker. Than this one did.
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lumineras) and [tumblr](http://luminera.tumblr.com/) :)


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